Blood and Ink
by XxTwistedIvyxX
Summary: In the wake of Putlova's death, many of the Russian crime families are in chaos. Squabbling for the profits of a broken empire. In the wake of her father's death, one leader tries to hold on to her businesses amid Putlova's gulag sniffing around, snitches, the ATF and general distrust. How will the Sons fit into the 'unholy alliance', and will anything ever be the same? tig/oc
1. Chapter 1

**_A very important A/N: (please read me!)_**_Well, here I go again. I should be the poster child for ADD. But alas, I just couldn't leave this story alone, and the more I wrote it, the more I fell in love with it. Right off the bat, I need to lay out some warnings. This is a very different story than what I usually write. It's extremely dark. As for Annell (the OC.) well, she is…special. She is for lack of a better description, insanely fucked up. This will eventually be a Tig/OC story...but…again warning! Most aspects of this story is pretty dark, violent and gritty. So if you're looking for a love story, that is beautiful and sweet, with a happy ending where everything gets tied up in a nice neat little bow, I suggest you turn back now. This story deals with the Russian 'Mafia' which I've actually done quite a bit of research on while I was preparing to write this. This deals mostly with Vory V Zakone which is I guess you could call it a 'sect' of the Russian Mob. Which translates to 'Thieves in Law,'...which then really is said to kind go hand in hand with the term: 'Honor amongst thieves.' They a have a certain 'code' that they demand their members: 'Vory' adhere to, this will be explained more and more as the story goes on. 'Suki' will be thrown around a lot in this story, this is a term that Vory v Zakone seems to call any other Russian criminal organization that doesn't adhere to their code. It actually means: "Bitches." As for the Russian: There will be Russian spoken at times in this story. I've flip-flopped a lot on how to deal with this... Russian as I'm sure you know, is a Cyrillic Alphabet…. And as I wrote I found that it really didn't really flow nicely… seeing as how unless you know Russian, you would have no idea what it even sounded like when spoken. So the Russian is written phonetically. It just flowed nicer, and reads better. One more time: seeing as how this deals with crime a lot, and again I admit it is violent and grim. The OC herself, is dark, complex and at times ruthless. So if you're looking for a story with a kind, sweet OC, this is probably not for you. You have to understand she has grown up in this lifestyle, and is extremely, well, jaded shall we say. I make no bones about that she is a criminal, and she does bad things with little to no empathy. (Which on a personal note: has been really fun to write.) I'm not saying she doesn't have redeeming qualities, as she does, but she is not a nice, sweet caring individual. I'm not saying that there won't be sweet, or tender moments (it is a romance!) but for the most part, it's very, very dark. One more thing, and then I'll shut up! This is a very 'busy' story, meaning it has a main plot, but it also has a lot of sub-plots and other stories floating around, so again if you don't like that, don't say I didn't warn ya! _

* * *

_Prologue: Sins of the Father_

* * *

It was a muggy morning in early May. As the sun crested over the horizon, the humidity already hung in the air. The bay area weather had never really been to her liking. She thought as the black Lincoln town car pulled up to the curb of an old Eastern Orthodox Church, with a bit of a jolt. The woman in the backseat, slid a pair of big black Gucci sunglasses over her cold blue eyes, and uncrossed her stocking clad legs. The sheer nude color silk added a bit of color to the pale alabaster of her skin but did little to hide the blue-black tattoos that littered her flesh, not that she wanted them covered. She'd earned them and the respect that came with them. Some were even a birthright. The long obviously dyed burgundy colored hair that topped her head was pulled back in an elegant French knot, and she tied a silk black scarf over her hair.

"I'll be out in fifteen…wait here." The voice that left the petite woman didn't match what you would expect. The small petite woman's voice was feminine yet deep with a husky tone.

"Da." The bald hulking figure in the driver's seat replied gruffly. Slamming the door behind her, she hooked a black expensive handbag over her elbow. The diminutive lady was nothing special, nothing would make you think twice, Appearing young, in her early to mid-twenties. Small in stature; and of some kind of eastern European descent. Which was normal for this particular neighborhood, the small cluster of blocks had a high Russian/Ukrainian/ Polish population. Tall high-heels clicked loudly against the poured concrete steps as she climbed, opening one half of the monstrous double doors, a small cross emblazoned on them.

For early morning the chapel was dark, lit only by scattered candles. As Eastern interpretations on saints store down from the high ceiling. The heavy scent of incense filled her nostrils, her heels clicking against the aged stone floor. Standing before the alter she made the sign of the cross over her body three times. Her pale thin fingers ordained with a single gold band on her middle finger but again a blue-black strange star seared in the flesh of her ring-finger.  
The small woman slid into an aged deep colored pew, kneeling she folded her hands. Eyes sliding shut, the silence filled her ears. The occasional beep of a horn, or a car alarm breaking it up a bit. The sound of a door quietly clicking shut brought the young woman's attention over her shoulder. Taking an audibly deep breath, the young woman stood and slinked towards the back of the church, slipping inside the small room. She shut the door. Taking a prostrate pose on the kneeler; she clasped her hands tightly.

"Bless me father for I have sinned; my last confession was a month ago…"

"Go ahead child." The male voice said with a strong heavy Russian accent on the other side of the confessional.

"In that time I have….taken the Lord's name in vain, had impure thoughts, had relations with a man I am not married to, lied, stole and I have committed murder."

* * *

Annell Marlena Propkovic sat at her desk her small fingers messaging slow circles on her temples. The young woman's office was stylish and chic. With large glass paneled windows, and light hardwood floors. The black furniture stood out. Her desk however, was cluttered and messy. Annell sighed loudly; ripping her long hair from her bun, sending the burgundy mass tumbling down her back. Shrugging out of the tight, form-fitting blazer, she turned ever so slightly to hang it on the back of her chair, and kicked off her heels under the desk. The knock on the door caused her eyes to jerk up abruptly.

"Yes?" she called, as she bent down a bit to pull out the top right desk drawer, fishing through it. As the door opened slowly she looked up, her eyes landing on the same large, bald hulk of a man that had taken her to church.

"Sorry; Ivan has found Yuri…how should we handle him?" the thick accent coating his every word as he leaned against the doorframe. "He has stars..." This caused Annell's head to jerk up and stare blankly at the man before her.

"I didn't give him stars" She hissed. Grabbing hold of a thick pair of black framed glasses, square but stylishly so. She slid them over them over her cold hard gaze.

"Da, I know."

"Bring him in."

Annell had a cool façade that she wore well, and as they drug in the lanky young man who had his head down, not even fighting. She became the epitome of cool, hard indifference. Pushing her glasses down her nose enough to gaze over them at the young man. As he was shoved into a chair in front of her by Ivan and Simon. Two large men dressed in nice suits, both sets of hands covered in the same blue- black ink that covered many parts of her body. Yuri had his head hung low, his wet mousey brown hair clung to his damp skin. He looked up through clouded brown eyes at that cold bitch that sat in front of him. She wasn't even human. Casually crossing her legs, she had rid herself of her stockings, she showed off two large stars on her knee caps. The dark colored ink clashing with the pale alabaster flesh. The crisp white linen shirt pulled tautly over her small chest, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows showed off an intricate design of the Virgin Mary clutching the infant Jesus tattooed on her forearm.

"When did you get stars?" Annell asked evenly, her gaze fixed on her desk. Yuri brought his heavy lidded eyes up to meet the cold narrowed gaze. Defiantly, he lifted his chin at the young woman. Fuck her. She was nothing more than a bitch with a pedigree. She had never _earned_ her stars, and she had the balls to get on his ass.

"You know the Code, wearing ink that you haven't earned is punishable by death." She supplied, quirking a dark eyebrow. Yuri matched her look with one of his own, as he spat on the clean hardwood. He was met by a hard slam against the back of his skull as Ivan spat: _"Show some respect."_ In the native tongue.

"Right." Annell chuckled. Sliding open the top right drawer, her hand closed around the matte finished black .45. Sliding in the magazine with a click; she narrowed her eyes at Yuri. "I hear you've been taking liberties with the girls..." Again, she was met with silence and a defiant look. "They work to pay off a debt to me, not you. You get no privileges with them, and if I ever hear you have forced anything on them again I will blow your fucking balls off." She hissed, pulling back the slide, a round clicked into the chamber. If Yuri was frightened by the strange woman he didn't show it. His face a mask of cool even indifference, a small trickle of blood slipped down from the bottom of his hairline down his neck, from where Ivan had struck him. "I wonder…" Annell clicked her tongue in thought, her index finger tapping against her bottom lip. A well-kept french manicured fingernail lightly scrapped at the full pink flesh, pushing off her desk. She stood gracefully, uncrossing her legs she circled his chair. The two large men stepping back, giving her room to _work._ Gun clasped tightly in one hand; her dark reddish hair hung down like a long thick curtain around her oval face. Slipping her glasses up her nose with her middle finger, she looked down at the man before her, a look of disgust etched in her features. She circled Yuri one final time, a long squared fingernail dragging across his shoulders, and neck. Stopping in front of him, her fingers wrapped around denim clad knees, surprisingly strong for a woman of such small stature, she forced his legs apart. Squatting down on the balls of her bare feet, she allowed her elbows to rest on her knees, the gun dangling between her knees.

"Does your wife know your stars are a fraud? She must." Annell laid the gun on the hardwood next to her feet. Her fingers clasping the linen of his black button down, tearing the buttons. Ripping apart; they popped in every direction, clattering to the floor. Trailing a perfectly manicured nail down his chest, it rested on his belt buckle, she tapped against the metal. "I have never suffered fools. Perhaps, I should send Nikolai to take care of her. You know he would love that, she always was a foul-mouthed whore who never knew her place." Venom dripped from her pretty mouth, as Yuri struggled against the two men holding him in his chair.

"Suka!" he yowled. "You are not Vory! You are stupid cunt, without Daddy you are nothing!" Saliva flew from his lips as he fought and screamed. Annell's face never wavered; her mask of cool indifference held firmly, as a small hand flew, with a crack, she back handed the man.

"Shut up." She hissed, standing, her small hands straightening her pencil skirt. Gripping the collar of her own shirt, she undid two buttons, sliding the material aside, to reveal at black and red star tattooed on the slightly hollowed area between her shoulder and collarbone. "I was born with this…This is my fucking birthright! Who are you?" she spat venomously. "Nothing more than a drunk born to whore in the streets of Kiev. You were born no one and that's how you will die." Walking causally back to her desk, she calmly took her seat. Clasping her hands together, she rested her chin against her fists. "Get those stars off him." Ivan and Simon nodded wordlessly, hauling the broken angry man up by his armpits.

* * *

Annell sat back on a plush soft black sofa, a high-ball glass of scotch held in her hand. George 'The Czech' sat across from her, sipping his own scotch as a young blonde beauty grinded herself against his lap. Clad only in lacy bra and panties, her blue eyes were half-lidded and dazed. George fingered a black lacy strap on the girl's shoulder, before taking another sip. His graying hair slicked back, with an almost greasy look to it, and the suit jacket he wore a size too small, showing off a large gut.  
"I see business has been good." He gestured flippantly, as the girl climbed into his lap, straddling him. Annell smirked behind the rim of her glass.

"You could say that." She hummed.

"How are the men adjusting, any problems?" His grey eyes store down at the young woman on his laps cleavage.

"Oh you know," Annell leaned back, her hand waving flippantly. "Here and there, nothing that I can't handle." Her cold eyes didn't betray anything. Nothing at all. Annell Propkovic was nothing if not an enigma, and enigma wrapped in a cold, hard emotionless flesh. George had known the young girl since she was in pig-tails and diapers. Vladimir, Annell's father was a boss and a very respected Vory v Zakone. They had met in prison in Siberia in the early sixties. Yuri had already been in and out of prisons most of his life. He was a hard-ass, much like his daughter. Annell, or Nellie as only those very close to the young woman had taken to calling her, was not the first woman to reach such high standing in the Organization, but she was among few. But she was Vladimir's only child and any doubt any one had possessed about her succeeding her father had proved nil very quickly.  
She was hard, frightening at times. In the first few months of her reign he'd seen the young woman do things….do things that would give even the hardest of men nightmares. As her Godfather, he wondered at times if she was healthy…mentally, or perhaps it was an act. An act designed to earn respect, to prove she was her father's daughter and would never be afraid to get her hands dirty. It was tradition that as an only child, she would take her father's place, but she did have marks against her that made even the older, wiser Vory nervous. She unlike most involved in the lifestyle had been born in America had rarely left the country, always sending others to do her bidding abroad, and there was always her lack of male anatomy. Just because there were _a few_ other females it did not lessen the skepticism. Skepticism that still followed Annell when it came to dealing with other circles. Her strength of stomach had come under fire, her ability to make the tough calls, ones that affected the Family. She had taken most in stride proving she was tough, more than tough at times - scary.

"The legit businesses are thriving, the girls pull in their fair share as well. I'm sure you know that the Suki's have been sniffing around." Annell muttered crossly, taking a hard pull off her drink. The Russians were a difficult family to get involved with. So many fractions, so much squabbling, there were Vory's, whom George personally preferred to keep his business dealing with. They were Vory v Zakone, they had a strict code, with even stricter punishments. One of which was to never rat. On anyone…Friend or foe; there was no such thing as a snitch..and if there was, they were dealt with in ways he didn't even like to think about. "I heard Putlova is dead." She added, taking a rolled cigarette from the crystal dish on the end-table.

"I hear his gulag is in chaos…" George supplied, his hand swatting the gyrating females bottom. "Leave me."

" They are. Bunch of bottom-feeders, I swear. They've come sniffing around here, but my men are stretched so thin with the ATF sniffing around, I've got a shipment of weapons coming in next week that I'm sweating out. Yuri is out." George's eyebrow shot skyward. "He'll be in the hospital for a least a week and then I'm sending him back to Kiev."

"Yuri? Wha- what did he-"

"Went to a tattoo shop downtown and got himself some stars. He didn't think I'd find out." George snorted. Ah, The Vory v Zakone was so strange about their tattoos, and 'earning' them. Especially 'stars', wearing false stars could get a man killed. What had Yuri been thinking? Yuri was a good kid, never questioned authority, always did as he was told, why act up now? "This isn't the first problem I've had with him lately. He's been pushing up on the girls, which is fine on his own time, but a few girls said he refuses to pay them when it's over. I just got Katerina from the hospital last week, when I asked what happened she said that Yuri wouldn't pay her, and when she threatened to bring it to me he beat the shit outta her."

"Mother of Christ." George sighed, shaking his head.

"I hear from Ivan, Simon and even Nikolai: they think he's doing coke again." Annell's eyes darkened, finishing her scotch she set it on the dark wood end table. Taking a deep drag off her cigarette she contained." Of course, they didn't say that..."

"Now, of course not..." Vory would never run to their leader and rat out another. But loyalty to the family came before loyalty to each other. "How did they bring it to you?"

"Nikolai came to me alone…but said that he, Ivan and Simon had concerns. When I asked what they were, he said that they believed 'Yuri was poisoning his own mind.' Note the wording." She chuckled, exhaling a cloud of bluish gray smoke. George also chuckled.

"I do notice, very careful indeed. I do give Nikolai credit, very smart to word it that way considering the code."

"That's what I thought." Annell placed the cigarette between her full pink lips. "Nikolai is one of my best men; If he says Yuri is in that shit.I believe him." The confidence rolled off the young woman in waves.

"You should know better than anyone –"

"I know that really I can only trust myself, but I would say I trust him as much as I am capable of trusting anyone.." She sighed, messaging her fingers over tired eyes. In the dark low lit room, she rose her hand, snapping her fingers at a scantily clad young woman, who couldn't be a day over eighteen. A thin manicured finger pointed wordlessly to her empty scotch.

"Be careful." George muttered darkly, his grey eyes landing on the tall, brutish man that stood about twenty feet behind Nellie, leaning casually against the bar. At least six feet tall, with his brownish salt and peppering hair slicked back, his angular face covered by sunglasses that George had never seen the man without. Nikolai clad in an expensive suit, clasped his hands in front of him. His tattoos crept out of the collar of his suit, crawling up his neck, and out of the sleeves. George did not like Nikolai, he never had. Nikolai worked for Vladimir, before he past. But had been cozying up to Annell for years, even before Vlad past. More than twenty years her senior, George had worried about his Goddaughter and the strange Ukrainian when she was only sixteen. God only knew why Vlad had not put a stop to it, he had threatened men for a lot less when it came to his daughter. His princess.

"Stop giving him the evil eye." Annell chuckled, she watched out of the corner of her eye as the young blonde she had snapped at returned with a fresh drink, and a crystal ashtray that Annell hadn't asked for.

" Thank you." Annell smiled, taking the items from the girl. Settling back in her seat, she sipped her scotch before sitting it on the table, and laying the ashtray precariously on her knee. "See, now that is potential." Annell pointed her index finger at the girl. "I didn't even ask for the ashtray, that's called being observant." Annell flicked the gray soot that had collected on the business end of her cigarette in the tray, her eyes still studying the blonde.  
"I've never seen her. Is she new?" George leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he gestured to the crystal dish. Annell smiled brightly, showing a set of brilliantly white, straight teeth before leaning over the arm of the sofa getting a single cigarette and handing it to the aging man.

"You've been in the State Pen for the last five years, of course you've never seen her, but yes she is new." Annell took a drag off her cigarette. "She is from…..Moscow, I believe- I could be wrong. They all kind of blend together after a while." She twirled her hand, eyes fixed on it...

"Ahhh, true, true." George chuckled, taking the first drag off his freshly lit cigarette. "Back to business, my dear. It's in my best interest as well as yours that you do well, and with the Putlova's men sniffing around I don't see that happening."

"They won't be a problem. I can handle them." Annell's eyes darkened, and her expression changed to one of challenge.

"Oh I have no doubt, my faith in you is….endearing. But still, with the ATF and Putlova's men; things have become more...challenging, no?" George exhaled, eyeing his goddaughter carefully. He was toeing a thin line and he knew it. She laid the ashtray on the dark coffee table between them, leaning back she crossed her legs. Her elbow propping up on the arm of the sofa, cigarette dangling from her fingers.

"I'm listening." Her expression unreadable.

"Have you ever considered going….outside the family?'

"No." she said decidedly. "Daddy would never…he would roll over in his grave. No, we keep our problems in the family. I don't need any help."

"But it would make things much easier, would it not? Think about it, someone trustworthy that you didn't have to lord over, not worry about the code or making them adhere to it… It would open all new doors."

"Easier is not always better." The young woman said sagely, taking a long drag off her cigarette. "Besides, why would anyone want to help me outside of the family, what's in for them?"

"Business-"

"If you're talking about the Italians, or the Nazi's I'm not interested…." She interrupted.

"I'm not. If you would let me finish, my dear." Annell relaxed, leaning back again. She twirled her hand at the wrist, signaling him to continue.

"Good business is hard to come by these days, I know a few…groups, who would be more than willing to, ah….help out."

"In exchange for what?" she asked vehemently. "No one does something for nothing."

"Oh I don't know. A cut of the profits, a certain alliance should they need your help, or muscle."

"Money," she laughed bitterly, smoke escaping from between her full pink lips in tufts. "Why does it always boil down to money?"

"Money makes the world go 'round baby. I have a few friends I could help you out, make some phone calls and see if anyone'd be interested…"

"And what makes you think anyone would be?" she rose a dark eyebrow skeptically.

"Darling, everyone is interested in making money….I'll make the phone calls, you just think about it. You aren't tied to anything, you just think, and if you still say no baby, well, you're the boss."

"The boys won't like it…" He watched in disgust as her gaze shifted to the lilthe he man leaning against the bar.

"Did you give him stars?" George whispered incredulously, smoke pouring from his thin lips as he grimaced.

"No!" she shook her head, her dark hair shaking around her pretty oval face. "Politically speaking, I have others with more seniority..."

"It would be political suicide."

"Exactly."

"So why do you care? If the boys have a problem they wouldn't dare act up…would they?" George spoke softly, his eyes half-lidded as he enjoyed his cigarette.

"I honestly am not sure; I don't need a mutiny on my hands right now."

"Please, just think about it. It could be good all-around for everyone."

* * *

George 'The Czech' Kowalchek sat in his small dingy flat, he rented above one of the many businesses that Annell, and by extension the Vory v Zakone owned. This in particular one, a laundry-mat. He felt a little guilty, not a normal emotion for him. Annell was in over her head, whether she knew it or not. He thought she might, but she - the stubborn mule she was, would never admit it. She had been groomed most of her life to succeed Vladimir, but not this soon. At twenty-four she, they, never thought that Vladimir would be gone, he hadn't been there for his Goddaughter. To help her, or guide her. He'd been serving his a five year sentence in the State Prison; racketeering, conspiracy, and possession of illegal firearms.  
Vladimir had been fine. His understanding was he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and six months later…dead. He hadn't been there; not for his 'brother' or his Goddaughter, not only on an emotional level to guide her through the loss of her father. Nor with dealing with her accession to power, politically he heard through the grapevine; that it had been a very volatile time for both Annell and the family. Her rise would either tear the organization apart at the seams, or make them even stronger. So far, it seemed to be the latter.  
Except for Nikolai, George did not like nor did he trust the dark haired Ukrainian. It wasn't normal for the man in his late thirties to be cozying up to a girl of sixteen. No good could come such a fascination of a grown man and a teenaged girl and now eight years later, he had himself in a very comfortable position. Being a right-hand, no matter if it was unofficial had its' perks. This had always been George's fear; no matter how good a leader she was proving to be. No matter how calculated she was, Nikolai had wormed his way in at a young impressionable age, and she trusted him. Trusted him implicitly it seemed, and now there was no breaking it up. He could call the shots, by simply whispering in her ear, and that was a bad thing.

George settled himself on the couch, a TV tray in front of him. He laid his microwavable meal down next to an open half-drank can of Budweiser. This needed to work out, Annell needed to make him money and fast. At sixty-two years old he was done, and tired of the game. Of this life. He had always planned to take his money, move to some quiet little island, somewhere warm and beautiful and be done with them. All of them, no more cops, no more crime, no more bullshit. Unfortunately, when he was arrested he'd lost everything….every goddamn penny. He didn't think she'd need help, but the death of Putlova was throwing a monkey wrench into his plans. His men squabbling, trying to prove they all had the biggest dick, so to speak, could be bad….Very bad. Annell had already had a target on her back by being Vlad's kid. Now, a boss and considered to be the biggest bitch around….she'd only made her target bigger. Then there was, Nikolai…whispering in her little ear, 'helping' her make all the big decisions...No, no, this had to stop and now. He needed a neutral third party, he needed her to take the help, broaden her horizons…He needed to call Clay. He also needed her to trust Clay and the Sons, and how he was going to do that? Well, he had no fucking idea.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I want to take a minute and thank Vick for the review! I really __appreciate_ it. As for the other less than fantastic reviews I got today..Well,I'm sorry that you don't like it and that's fine. Everyone is entitled to their opinion.  
As for 'Really Confused' I really haven't read anything like this so far, but if you have: Oh well, sorry! As for being fed up with us writers re-doing each other stories: I'm not re-doing anyone's story. Thank you very much, and if you don't like it, don't read it. It's a very simple concept, dear. Also, flames that are submitted Anon. will really not be taken seriously, so I wouldn't even waste your time. Thanks ! Have a great day!

* * *

_Chapter One: Sins of a Daughter_

* * *

Annell sat on her back deck feet propped up on the glass patio table, a cigarette dangling precariously from her full lips. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to _fix_ this. Of course, she could never speak that aloud though. Putlova's gulag, was becoming more and more of a problem. They were dealing, and she knew they were dealing in 'Little Russia' but she had neither the man power, nor political muscle to deal with it. She hated fucking drugs, and the last thing she'd ever wanted was drugs, of any kind in her town. She was a bad person, she knew this. A criminal, a twisted person, a complete and total head case, but she turned a blind eye. She couldn't let anyone know that she knew what those suki were up to. It made her look weak, hell, not even _look_ weak….it was weak. She couldn't start any shit that she couldn't finish now, and this…she was certain, she would never be able to finish.

Unless, she had more manpower. George's words ringing loudly inside her skull. If she could take the help, she could be rid of them, or at the very least make them stay the hell away from her town, her people. It made her blood boil, she hated fucking drugs. When she had done her time in prison she'd seen the havoc they reeked first hand, women and men alike willing to degrade themselves for a fix, it was disgusting. _'Never allow yourself to lose you faculties. It makes you weak.'_ She could still hear her father. The sound of the sliding glass door, pulled her from her thoughts. She sighed, taking a drag off her burning cigarette as Nikolai strode to her, pulling out an iron decorative chair, and he sat across from her. She shook her head. His crisp white linen shirt smattered with blood, the sleeves rolled above his elbows, his forearms covered in both ink and blood.

"Yuri has been dealt with." His thick accent breaking the comfortable silence between the two. Annell quirked an eyebrow, pulling her legs down as Nikolai swatted her bare feet off the table, she tucked them under herself.

"Good…" she sighed. "Did you bring me proof?" she asked tiredly, she trusted Nikolai more than she should. She knew this. But she always demanded proof. She hated asking it of him too, he had been so much to her friend, confidant, and lover. She knew it hurt him when she didn't take him at his word.

"Da." He hissed, digging in his pants pocket.

"Please; tell me you didn't drive through town like that..." he fixed her with a dirty look, his grey eyes narrowed and a scowl covering his face.

"I wore my suit jacket." He rolled his eyes as he store at Nellie. Fresh-faced and relaxed, as she lounged on her chair.

"Oh and that doesn't look suspicious at all!" she yelped. "A man wearing an all-out suit in ninety eight degree weather. Jesus!" she stubbed her cigarette out in the plastic ashtray, in the middle of the table her eye fixated on the man across from her as his fished in his pocket. She nearly winced, nearly. As he tossed a flap of flesh across the table, a large red and black star embedded in it.

"Why didn't you just use sandpaper?" She eyed the piece of meat with a hint of disgust. He shrugged, standing.

"If you wanted it done certain way, should have done it yourself." He said thickly. "I take shower."

"My father-"she started.

"Your father is dead." He interrupted before disappearing into the large house, without so much as looking back at the gapping woman, opening and closing her mouth like a fish.

* * *

The clubhouse was buzzing with activity, it was Friday and well there was a lot to do in preparation for tonight's festivities. Crow Eaters running in every direction, listening closely to their 'Queens' every command. After the last few weeks, a little cutting loose was in order. That was until a simple phone call changed everything….

"Hey" Chuckie stumbled in looking for Gemma, worry etched in his face. "You know some guy, George Kowalchec? Says he knows Clay?" Gemma eyes snapped up, a small smirk on her lips.

"The Czech? Yeah, they did time together one in the nineties….decent guy. What's he want?" Gemma asked only briefly taking her eyes off the bubbling pot of chili. Popping a hip, she rested a hand on it, and looked over her shoulder.

"He says he needs to talk to Clay, something about business….I didn't tell him anything about the shit storm Clay's in…."

"Business?"

"Yeah… Should I get Jax?" Gemma pursed her lips in thought.

"Probably shoulda already, honey."

* * *

Annell laid in bed; staring at the ceiling. The barely audible ticking of her bedside clock was slowly driving her insane. Right alongside with the not-so-gentle roar of the snoring body next to her. Again, another sleepless night. She laid awake, the feelings of guilt, and generally feeling dirty and used. Nikolai and Annell had long had an 'unhealthy' and strange relationship. Nikolai and Annell had never been what one would call 'exclusive'. Nikolai had other women, she knew he did, but it had always been that way. From the time she was sixteen they had been…together, in that way. When she was younger she believed that he would change; grow tired of other women, and lavish his affections on her. But as she grew older, wiser she realized that would never happen.

She couldn't help but wonder; did she love him? She wasn't sure, at one time she had been positive she did. But now the waters were so muddied; she couldn't tell anymore. The truth was; she was comfortable with the way things were...No ties, no real commitment. The only thing she hated about 'them' was that, he always without fail, shoved her face into the mattress. They had never once 'made love', it was always rough and from behind. She longed in some ways to be told she was beautiful, to be 'caressed' for someone to take his time. But alas; that had never happened and it likely wouldn't.

She could not have a relationship, didn't have the time to invest in one, nor did she see how she could explain her lifestyle to a 'decent' man, and anyone in the family…well, she could never fully trust them. There was too much to be gained; especially for a younger member, someone her own age. No, there was no way she'd ever be able to make that work. So for now, she was comfortable. Nikolai came; they spent 'time' together and most of the time, he left.

Silently, she climbed out of bed. A sheet wrapped around her body, as she pulled on a grey pair of cotton shorts and a man's tank top from her dresser. Slipping into the outfit, she padded lightly down the aged wooden stairs; lined with photos of her father, of her numerous 'uncles' and their families. She couldn't shake the thought. Did she love him? No. Would she cry if he died tomorrow, probably not. Sure, she would be sad, she did care for him. She wasn't completely heartless, but would she cry the tears of a grieving widow like she'd seen so many times. No. Slinking into her living room, she snatched up the remote, flicking the large T.V to life.

She became quickly engrossed in an old episode of one of "The Real Housewives..." She wasn't quite sure of what. It very well might've been Beverly Hills, but she couldn't be sure, and once again her mind began to wander... Nikolai always maintained that he was in love with her when she was younger, in the beginning but he honestly hadn't said it in at least six years. Why did she trust him so, and why was she so certain that he always had her best interests at heart? Probably not, people always looked out for themselves first. She knew that, she was not naive. At the tender age of twenty-four she found herself cynically deciding the only one she could really trust was of course, herself.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three: Mortal Sins…  
_

* * *

The air was stale and thick, the smell of cigarette smoke and liquor hung heavily in the air. A few of the younger members of Vory were scattered around the large den. It strangely elegant and serene. The plush crimson colored carpet went well with the aged crimson and back patterned wallpaper, the low light cast an eerie glow on the numerous faces. The older men; as well as some younger sat contently on the scattered black leather sofas and armchairs with a pretty young ladies in their laps. More than a few were not ashamed to publicly have a young woman's head in their laps. Annell was not bothered by these kind of displays, she had long been accustomed to this.

The women; they were part of her business and some ways part of Vory v Zakone themselves. Vladimir had long had an ongoing business of women. Young women; desperate to get out of Europe, overly eager to get to America. Annell had since inherited that business and while she justified herself, she'd never once lied to one of these women. They all owed her, or more explicitly Vory v Zakone a debt that they would be required to 'work' off. She had never forced a woman to work in her brothels, but it was a 'faster' way to work off the debt and some jumped at it. Some once they found themselves in America were desperate to be done with the crime family and get away from them, off their radar. This was the best and fastest way to do so. But there were others who didn't want to be forced to degrade themselves for a quick escape, who maintained their sense of self-respect through everything. Annell had always had a deep sense of respect for those women, and put them to work in her more…legitimate businesses. Waitresses, dry cleaners, housekeepers…if you walked into a business owned by Annell Propkovic there was a chance that about ninety percent of every person that worked for her: man, woman, or child was doing so illegally.

Annell was always a bit shocked as she grew up in age and rank that some women, the younger ones who had no family in this country and were a bit culture shocked, never left. Not really anyway, some hung around the family even after their debt had been paid. Annell's cold blue eyes took in the scene around her, it was the same ever Saturday evening. The Vory all came together as equals, even the lowest ranking members. There were cards, women, booze flowed freely. Turning her attention to her hand, she sighed, her finger absentmindedly tracing an invisible pattern on the green felt table. She had two pair; two fives and two nines. She could very well win this hand, however there were four other players, who could very well have a better hand.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Nikolai lounging on the sofa casually. A beer held limply in one hand, he head back, eyes closed. With a very pretty blonde head bobbing up and down in his lap. She sighed, she should care and she should have some form of jealously racing through her veins. But she didn't. All she could find herself thinking was: '_better you than me...'_ at the pretty little woman.

There was something very wrong with Annell, and she knew it. George had called earlier in the evening proclaiming that he had fantastic news; and that he would be by later that evening, and yet she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. She wasn't stupid enough to believe that George was trying to 'help' her out of the kindness of his heart, He was her Godfather and while she was sure somewhere deep down he did want to see her succeed. He did want her to do well, he always had. She also knew that he'd lost everything when he went to prison, and was likely trying to make it back. That made her nervous; a desperate man is was dangerous one. He'd never steer her in an intentionally wrong direction, but easy money was not always _smart_ money. If there was one thing she didn't want; it was to go back to prison. Some that worked for her, and that she knew didn't mind prison. Her father, for instance always said that prison was his home. But she hated it and maybe not for the reason you would think. She hated being around so many other people, she hated the food, and she hated that she couldn't smoke whenever and wherever she liked.

"Nellie..." Ivan said in a sing song voice, waving his large calloused, tattooed hand in her face. "Anybody home?" he laughed, his deep accent rumbling in his throat. Annell chuckled softly as he ran a hand over the skin of his freshly shaven bald head.

"Sorry, I don't know where I went just now." She laughed, her black framed glasses slipping down her nose a bit. "What's going on?" she asked dumbly, as she slid her glasses bit higher up her pert little nose.

"I just called." One of the younger, nameless ones said gruffly

"Oh…I guess I'll call too." She said flippantly, tossing a few red chips in the center of the table.

"I meaned to tell you, I really like your new glasses..." Ivan started, his thick accent and often butchering of the English language making her cringe a bit. The other men at the table laughed loudly, some shooting him an 'Idi na xuy husesos.' From Simon, and a 'kiss ass' from another younger nameless one.

"Jesus Ivan, Flattery will get you everywhere..." she rolled her eyes sarcastically, plucking a cigarette from her pack laying on the table.

"No, I don't mean like that'd…you have whole sexy library going..." He shook his head as Simon rolled his eyes, punching the bigger bald man in his large muscled arm.

"You mean librarian, retard." Simon hissed, his accent very slight and generally more understandable.

"Whatever." He waved his hand flippantly. Annell laughed openly shaking her head, as she took her first drag, exhaling a cloud of blue smoke towards the ceiling. The room filled with the sounds of drunken laughter, as Annell took the last swig off her beer bottle, setting it down with an empty thud resounding, she out of the corner of her eye looked at the young nameless man sitting at the table, waiting…

"Hey fuckhead, get Nellie 'nother beer." Ivan all but yelled, shoving the nineteen year old boy off the chair towards the deep cherry wood bar. All the while muttering about what a 'useless piece of shit' he was in his native tongue.  
BANG! Annell jumped in her seat as the loud sound resounded from the upstairs brothel, accompanied by loud girlish screams, and yipping. Ivan immediately dropped the young mans collar as Simon dropped his cards, all the men drawing their side arms that were tucked in various locations on their persons. Violently jerking up her boot-cut jeans on her left ankle, Annell yanked a small black .25 from it's' ankle holster. As the group filtered cautiously up the carpeted stairs, another loud thud and the sounds of running feet.

"Spasite! Spasite! Help." A loud voice called, as Annell pushed passed Ivan. Her breath caught in her throat. The tall thin form of Demetri, a handsome man in his early thirties, with a thick mop of blonde hair and brilliantly green eyes. Clad in dark sand-blasted fashionable jeans, and a black form fitting T-shirt, held up a thin much shorter form, so battered and bruised, he was almost unrecognizable. Almost. Her heart broke a little bit on the spot. The small man, leaned heavily on the younger, taller Demetri. His wrinkled thin skin of his face, torn and bloody. The flesh of his face puffy and swollen almost three times its' normal size. His snowy white hair had been tainted a sickly reddish pink - with his own blood. As the old man crumpled to the floor Demetri scooped him up, bridal style, cradling the old man against his chest, almost like a child.

"Stefan!" Annell screeched, rushing forward towards the mismatched pair. Her gun clattering to the floor as she dropped it with little to no thought. Stefan was is in his eighties and a very close friend of the Vory v Zakone, she known him all her life. He was for all intents and purposes, her Grandfather. The soft sound of the men's hushed whispers, filled the room. "What happened?" she breathed, as she closed the distance. Demetri held the old man with ease, as she felt tears well up in her eyes.

"I don't know…He got jumped on his way here...I presume." Demetri spoke with no accent at all. "I found him two blocks back, lying in the gutter."

"Oh my god..." Annell breathed, "Lay him down! Lay him down!" she spoke hurriedly and frantic, as she ushered the pair to the couch, a few men following. The horror that etched itself into her face was evident, as she chewed at her bottom lip and her hands shook a little. Lying the elderly man down with the gentlest of ease; Demetri backed away, allowing Annell to get a full view. She bit back a moan. Stefan's eyes were swollen shut and beginning to bruise, his jaw looked a bit like it might have been dislocated, he was the picture of grotesque, monstrous horror.

"Move," Ivan pushed her aside, in a hurry. She normally would have bit back, none of them normally would have brushed her aside so but every person seemed to be on auto-pilot. Deathly quiet, Stefan hadn't uttered a sound, not a whimper or a groan…nothing. She paced….as Ivan worked. The men, had broken themselves into little circles talking quietly, a mixture of English, Russian, Ukrainian even Czech being tossed around. Her thin, boney hands wrung themselves nervously as she paced. She'd seen quite a bit lately, and through-out her life but this was….something else. Who beats an old man within an inch of his life? Who did that? Even in her darkest, most twisted moments, she would never, she didn't think she could. Even if she wanted to. Feeling utterly useless, she paced. Up and down the room, her gaze drifting to the abandoned card game. She was so wrapped in her own thoughts and worries, she didn't see Ivan come behind her, and she jumped as he laid a large hand on her shoulder.

"I need to speak wit you…private." His face was stoic, but his voice was soft with a certain grimness to it. Nodding wordlessly, she slinked into the back room. The dark, dampness sent a shiver up her spine, as Annell gave a single yank on the chain that hung from the single light bulb fixture. Merely a store room for wine and other assorted liquor; the concrete was stained and the cinderblock was painted a sickly pale green. She waved a hand in front of her face as she felt a spider web touch her.

"Will he be alright?" She asked quietly, her eyes though, were fixated on a particularly expensive bottle of scotch on a far plywood shelf.

"Nyet." Ivan towered above the small woman, his head shook slowly. "If he were younger maybe; but with age and wounds…nyet."

"Should we take him to the hospital?" Unknowing what to do the leader questioned her subordinate. She never liked to involve hospitals or cops, but if they could save the old man's life.

"Nyet..." Ivan shook his head again, a tired bloody hand running over his bald head. "They won't be able to do anything, maybe make him more comfortable, but I can do that here."

"Alright;" She cradled her head in her hands. "Do it." She sighed, leaning her back against some old dusty shelves behind her. Ivan nodded simply, before he turned to leave. Shutting the door with a snap.  
Annell slouched against the shelving, her body sagging forward a little. She let out a few haggard breaths, as her heart beat fast and there was a certain tightness in her chest. Blinking rapidly, hot tears spilled over her lower lids and ran down her cheeks. They were slow at first but became slowly and steadily faster as her chest heaved. She slid down until she was sitting, her knees pressed tightly against her chest. Laying her forehead against her knees she allowed herself to cry, really cry. Big, fat hot tears streamed down her face, pitter pattering into her lap. She didn't even hear the door open, it wasn't until she was yanked up roughly by her shoulders and given a hard shake that she opened her eyes, staring into familiar grey ones.

"Are you happy?" Nikolai hissed lowly. His face twisted in anger, as he sneered down at the smaller woman. "I told you this would happen, you know who did this. Why didn't you listen?" His whispers were harsh and demanding. His fingers dug painfully into the flesh of her bicep, giving her another shake.

"You don't know..." She choked out.

"I do know! And so do you! Don't play naive Annell, it doesn't become you." He sneered.

"Why start a fight we can't win? " She wretched her arms from his grasp. "They out number us right now, and with the ATF…"

"You are frightened? Are you scared, Annell?" he lowered his face millimeters from hers, mocking her. "You are pathetic." He hissed, shoving the young woman into a row of shelves, the clattering sound of wood shelveing fell around her. Followed the distinct sound of shattering glass. BANG! for the third time that night the door was thrown open, and Ivan and Simon stood in the bright light of the door frame.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Ivan boomed, his eyes fixed on the crumpled woman on the floor, the shattered glass and liquor all around her. "Did you fucking-"He turned to Nikolai venomously.

"Nothing." Annell's face betrayed nothing, cool and even the tear tracks were thankfully hidden by the darkness of the cellar. "Nothing, I can't handle." Annell bit back a bitter laugh. She seemed to be saying that a lot lately. She watched as Nikolai shoved past the two large men, muttering something under his breath as he went.

"Are you alright?" Simon asked thickly. At her side in an instant he grabbed Annell by her arm pits; hoisting her up.

"Fine." She snapped. Brushing some dirt and soot off her white t shirt. Ivan shook his head, running a hand over his face with groan.  
"This can't go on, Nel." He whispered darkly.

"What?" she hissed venomously, stalking towards the larger brutish man. Their chests pressing together as she looked up at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about..."

"You know what - he's over-stepping bounds. He doesn't have stars, and you let him act like he does…. It makes you look weak, makes us all look weak. You must make example of him." Annell shook her head tiredly, wiping at her face violently.

"It's been a bad night, we're all tired and…tensions are running high right now..." she reasoned.

"Don't make me ask..." Simon whispered. "Please…you have my loyalty, you always have…but please."

"Are you asking me if I am unfit?" Ivan shook his head vigorously.

"Never. But keep this shit up and the others will."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four: The Head that Hangs the Heaviest… _

* * *

Annell sat in the pitch blackness of the abandoned brothel. The girls had long since went to the respective rooms, and her men had packed it in for the night long ago. She wasn't sure why she was still here; but an hour and a full pack of cigarettes later, she still sat in the dark unable to make herself move. Nikolai might've been right, it could have been Putlova's gulag showing off. Well, she couldn't really consider it 'showing off' per-say. It didn't exactly take huge balls to beat an eighty-two year old man. But they were sending a message. A message she got loud and clear. Nikolai had wanted to take it to them, the first time they came sniffing around, but what was the point? They would only make a mess. Nikolai might've been right but Ivan and Simon were right too. He had been getting bolder since she taken over control, gradually over-stepping his bounds. But it was her fault; she had allowed it. She would have to do something, he'd forced her hand at this point. If it were any of the others, she would have had them shot on the spot, so why should he be any different?

"What the hell is going on here?" She whirled around on her bar stool, dark hair askew, clothes rumpled. "Jesus mighty, you look like shit." George groaned. He'd gotten a phone call thirty minutes ago from Simon, the forty-five year old sounded uncharacteristically upset, ranting and raving about how George had to get Annell's 'ass straightened out.'

'I'm fine," Annell muttered, turning back towards the bar and her bottle of eighteen year old scotch.

"You're always 'fine'." George said softly, as he took the unoffered seat next to her. Propping an elbow up on the bar; he turned to face the troubled woman with a small smile. "I've learned to ignore that statement, or take it as an omission that you are not fine." Annell chuckled, taking a hard swig off the bottle and fishing out another cigarette.

"I'm really fucking things up here." She laughed as she lit her cigarette. She laughed because she didn't know what else to do, if she didn't laugh she might just cry.

"No, you're not…I see we aren't using glasses tonight..." he eyed the bottle, taking a swig himself. A small smile on his thin, slightly chapped lips. "Classy."

"You know it and yes I totally am fucking up." She slid her glasses off, laying them on the bar as she messaged her eyes with her fingertips.

"I assume this is about Nikolai? Please, I never asked because honestly, I didn't want to know the answer…Please tell me you aren't fucking him?" Annell pressed her lips together firmly, her eyes widened as she looked away. George groaned, laying his forehead against the bar with a loud 'Nellie.' "Haven't you ever heard the term: 'you don't shit where you eat?' "He groaned, never lifting his head.

"I was young…" she started, only to be cut off by a hard slam, as George's palm met the wood of the bar.

"I knew it! I knew that all that hanging around each other wasn't good!" Annell rolled her eyes, blowing a tuft of bluish grey smoke heavenward. "No good can come from a grown man having an interest in a teenaged girl..."

"You said you had good news…" She tried to change the subject. Eyes fixated ahead on the massive amount of liquor bottles that lined the wall behind the bar. Her small hand grasped the bottle from her Godfather taking a long, hard swig, her face wincing slightly as the scotch slowly and sweetly burned its' way down her throat.

"I do." The old man perked significantly, straightening in his chair. He brushed his graying hair from his chubby face. "I talked to an old friend…" He grimaced. "Well, his son and I think I have a good thing set up for you…did you give what we talked about last week any thought?" Annell visibly recoiled. Her lips pursed to the side, as she shook her head.

"I don't think it's a good idea." She said simply.

"And Nikolai is? No offense meant but, you don't seem to have the best ideas lately." George watched as she contorted her face into a scowl and took a hard drag off her cigarette, her eyes glued to the cigarette as she rolled the filter between her thumb and index fingers.

"I made a mistake..." she said softly, and simply.

"I know, and I don't want to see you make anymore. Sometimes in this business; the most danger can come from the stupidest things..." She nodded. She knew that, tensions were high and tempers flared easily. Not to mention it seemed everyone and their mother was out for her business, and if that meant with bullets, so be it. Male egos were so delicate to set off. She waved her hand for him to continue, picking at an invisible piece of lint on her shirt. Her cigarette back between her full lips.

"Anyway, they have to put it to a vote but he seems to think this…arrangement could work out well for both parties."

"A vote? And what 'arrangement' have you worked out without me, Uncle?" Her eyes narrow suspiciously, gray smoke escaping through her clenched teeth.

"I told you; they are outsiders. Things don't work for them the way they work for us…ugh, it's a …democracy, for lack of a better word. They put it to a vote amongst the members…. There's not so much a boss as opposed to a 'President'." He supplied; conveniently forgetting to answer the latter question.

"The arrangement? And members of what exactly? I'd like to know who you're trying to get me into bed with." She hissed, her eyes darkened dangerously as she seethed.

"Ten percent…monthly profits."

"Of what?" she pushed.

"Everything."

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ!" She slammed her hand against the bar. "That's a hundred thousand dollars a month are you fucking kidding me, George!" Grabbing the bottle violently, she took a sip. Her eyes glittering dangerously as she thought about shooting the motherfucker right between the eyes.

"Just think about it, Nellie… You could have help with security, if you should need it. Putlova's men wouldn't be much of a threat anymore, would they?" She bit back a laugh. God, he was trying hard. Hard to make her agree; what was he getting out of this?

"Who. Are. They?" she enunciated each syllable, her knuckles turning white as she clutched the neck of the bottle.

"SAMCRO.."A blank look passed her face, as she held up an empty hand as she waited. Was she supposed to have some idea about who he was talking about? "The Sons of Anarchy..based out of-"

"Oh hell no!" she roared. "I heard about what happened with Putlova, the counterfeit money. Hell no. I'm not getting in bed with THAT!"

"I thought you were the first one to say Putlova was an honorless bitch, who deserved everything he got?' George quirked an eyebrow, holding a hand out palm up he sighed. "Cigarette?" Annoyed, she groaned tossing a beat-to-shit pack of Marlboros at the older man.

"You hate my cigarettes…" she mumbled. While Annell kept her cigarette in old, used Marlboro Red packs, she rolled her own and more often than not, if you bummed one you would find they were filled with vanilla, black cherry, or mango flavored tobacco. "I will admit; I need help…What happened tonight with Stefan convinced me. But if I'm getting into bed with any groups, it's going to be with someone I….pseudo-trust." She said confidently, slipping two cigarettes from the box, pressing one between her lips, she held out the other. "And I'm sorry, hearing your…friend….previously paid off Putlova with counterfeit bills….doesn't make me too confident." Tilting her head to the side as she clicked open the Zippo, leaning into the flame, she took a deep pull off the cigarette.

"Putlova was never been exactly trustworthy himself; you have no idea if he did something to warrant such a move on their part." George reasoned pushing a pair of thin wire framed aviator style glasses up his freckled hooked nose. Annell snorted.

"Oh, I'm sure he did but-"

"So the problem is…what exactly?" George wrapped his chubby tattooed finger around the Zippo, prying it away from the younger woman. Annell watched as he flicked it to life, the fire light casting orangey-dark planes over his face. Her jaw clenched, and she took a deep hard pull off her cigarette. He was right, and she was becoming backed into a corner. She didn't have a good reason not to trust them other than the money, and Putlova was a slimy bastard. The move could easily justified…she assumed. But George was strong arming her, and there was nothing more she hated than feeling pressured. Anyone else she would have threatened to put a bullet in their face but George was…George, he was family.

"Alright," she exhaled a cloud of smoke. "You set up a meeting, and I'll be there. But." She point her cigarette holding index and middle fingers at the aged man. "If this goes south, it will come down on you. You're the one pushing these SAMCRO people, If they fuck me, you fuck me and I'll fuck up you world. Godfather or not."


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five: The Devil in a Blue Dress_

* * *

Annell gazed out the tinted black window, her forehead resting against the slightly heated glass. The A/C pumped on high, 103 degrees today and good God did she hate it. She eyes fixed themselves on the trash that littered the sides of the nearly desolate highway, patches of dried out, burnt grass amongst just plain dirt. She bit her lip, she was annoyed. Annoyed, at the whole situation she found herself in. She never thought that leading, being 'boss' would be so….exasperating. But then again she had never really given it much thought. Her father, Vladimir was invincible, he was like Superman or something, so the thought of him dying was always very far from her mind. Even after his diagnosis; she'd always assumed he'd beat it. He was a fighter, a tough, hard son of a bitch that never gave in, and yet in the end it didn't do him any good.

"I don't like this…" Nikolai spoke ten minutes into the drive, his steely grey eyes studying the diminutive woman in the backseat. Or perhaps, he was eyeing the small caravan of black town cars that now lined the highway. Lifting her forehead from the glass she slid off her black glasses, snapping them safely in their case, and dropping it into her hand bag next to her.

"I didn't know I asked for your input." She didn't miss the way his jaw clenched or the way he suddenly store straight ahead at the yellow lined pavement. "I think we need to get something straight. This is the only time I will warn you: If you ever put your hands on me again, or question my authority I will have you shot." A french manicured fingernail pressed against the small button, cracking the tinted glass. As she lit a cigarette, exhaling quickly. "Don't think I won't…I've let you get away with much, that others wouldn't but don't test me again." The silence that filled the car was deafening, as she tapped her free hand against her knee. "Do we understand each other?"

"Da." He said simply, without a thread of emotion. She gave a single simple nod. Well, good now that that was sorted out she could focus on more important things. Like her obsessive paranoia about the 'meeting' today, she'd actually been a hot mess about it for two whole weeks. Which had unfortunately spilled onto her men, for two weeks she had been surly, and quick to temper. Leading to broken dishes at home, and even easier punishments among the men. Sergei, a low ranking Vory was sporting a black eye and a limp after Annell had found out he'd given his brother-in-law lenacy on a gambling debt. Granted, she been trying to collect that debt for two months and said brother-in-law was about to get a bullet in his knee cap. 'If you couldn't pay, you shouldn't gamble.' She thought irately, staring out the window.

George waited in the hot abandoned parking lot. The sun beat down on him unforgivingly, at least it was a dry heat. Although George had never been one to agree, dry or humid he was still sweating his balls off. The distant roar of motorcycles, perked the ageing man up considerably. Hopefully all would go well, and he would do everything in his power to insure it did. He wracked his mind for a moment; was it worth it? Stefan had been a friend for years, and Annell, well she trusted him. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his balding head, there were always civilian casualties in war...and this was no different. The ends justify the means. Squinting into the distance, he could see the distant figures approaching. His heart thundered loudly in his chest as the distance closed quickly. He watched with eager eyes as the men cut their engines, exchanging a few words before walking towards him.

"George?" A large man with slicked back blonde hair said gruffly. The four men behind him hung back a bit, arms crossed over their chests, stance wide and looming.

"Yes. Jackson I'm assuming…"He held out his hand.

"Jax." The blonde corrected and George didn't miss the way the President eyed his hand with a bit of skepticism before taking it begrudgingly.

"Clay and I met in prison. He was a...friend." Jax eyed the older man with even more skepticism. "They should be here any moment; Annell I must warn you, can be a bit…temperamental." The large one behind Jax with icy piercing blue eyes and wild black hair snorted. George looked over his shoulder at the sounds of crunching gravel and as a lone black town car filled the space next to him, he noticed two others parked about fifty yards away. He bit back a growl of annoyance as Nikolai climbed out, sliding his dark sunglasses over his eyes, and opening the back passenger door.

"Fuckin'…..A" the dark haired one drew out the statement, as two shapely notably bare alabaster legs swung out the door. Annell emerged quickly, looking. Well, quite grown up. In a skin tight knee length pencil skirt and a smart yet still elegant sleeveless white button down blouse, two buttons left undone a hint of cleavage poking out as well as the tips of her stars. He tried not to cringe as Nikolai held out a hand, that the young woman took nodding her head to him.

"George..." she offered a tight lipped smile, but he didn't fail to notice that it never quite made it to her eyes.

"Right, Annell this is Jackson-sorry, Jax Teller. Jax; this is Annell Propkovic, boss of the California Vory v Zakone." George gestured between the two nervously. "I thought you two..should-" Annell held up a flat palm to George. Sticking out the hand to Jax, she offered a dazzling white smile.

"Hello." She said, eyeing the men behind him a bit warily. Jax blinked a few times as his eyes openly looked her up and down. "I am unarmed," she smiled. "I can't say so much for my friend though." She jerked a thumb to the stoic looking man behind her, his hands clasped in front of him.

"I'm sorry; I wasn't expecting-"

"A woman?" Annell snickered. "Trust me, I get it all the time. Would you like to take a stroll with me?" She flashed another deceptively dazzling smile.

The two walked slow, steady circles around the parking lot, Annell's high heels dangling from her hand as she walked bare-foot; a full foot at least shorter than her large accomplice. The small woman kept her voice low as she explained. Explained the dynamics of her 'family', how they worked, what they worked and how. Jax in turn explained a bit about the Sons not much, but enough. Annell seemed to be mystified by the idea of a group 'voting'. That wasn't the way it worked in her world, but it was interesting to say the least. The next topic was of course, money. Everything in world revolved around money.

"I must admit; I'm a little wary. I've heard about what happened with Viktor Putlova." Jax rose an eyebrow at the small woman. _This_ was their boss? He could actually say he was a little disappointed, not at all intimidating or seemly dangerous, she left a bit to be desired in a business partner. However, Jax was well aware that looks could be deceiving, very deceiving. She was relatively straight forward, no nonsense and blunt. That was always something he could appreciate in anyone, man or woman. When she spoke about her 'girls', his ears perked up a bit. Not that he would need any more input; Nero seemed to do well enough on his own. However; extra connections in the business couldn't hurt.

"One of his men shanked my brother in prison." Jax left out that the incident had actually happened after the pay off. Annell's blue eyes looked to the large man, her lips pursed in thought. She nodded once in understanding.

"I am not Putlova," she said confidently. "My family. We do not operate the way his gulag does...did...does. My Father was very adamant that in a world such as ours, we must maintain some sense of honor, and dignity, a code if you will." She said solemnly, trying to assure he companion of her relative trustworthiness.

"One of my members. He looked up some Intel about your…organization. He said I could tell what kind of person you were by your tattoos." Annell's steps paused, as she looked up at him. Wide eyed at his knowledge. That kind of information was something they tried to keep in the family.

"Yes, I suppose you could. Most of my tattoos have meaning." Without waiting for him to ask, she pointed a manicured finger to the Virgin Mother clutching her infant child on her fore arm. "This means; I have been in this life since I was very young, and the two dots on my knuckles signify how many years I spent in prison." Jax's eyebrow rose at that.

"The stars on your knees?"

"Mean I kneel before no man." She resumed her steady pace, strolling the occasional breeze whipping her long hair in the wind. Surprisingly; they shook hands agreeing on terms, and exchanging phone numbers. Going their separate ways, Jax nodded to his men as they straddled their bikes. Annell nodded to Nikolai, as he opened her door, she slid in. Both sets of engines starting, George stood there dumbstruck, blinking as each group sped away. What the hell had just happened?

A month had past since the first meeting, and Annell found herself surprisingly chipper. She hadn't needed them yet, word of mouth seemed to work wonders. Word spread quickly through the underground about the uneasy alliance between Vory v Zakone and SAMCRO. Putlova's people had become less of a problem over the last month and for that alone, she was grateful. Relaxing at home, she smiled. Lounging on the couch, feet propped up on the arm, a large glass of wine in hand. She watched _An Officer and a Gentleman._ God, she was such a girl sometimes! The grandfather clock that stood on the far dark coffee color painted wall tolled eleven o'clock. When her prepaid rung. The familiar voice of Simon filling her ears.  
"_Ivan has been arrested."_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Okay first of all, I like to take a minute to give a shout out to the Freak Circle ladies. I am so grateful to these ladies, it is pretty cool to meet such awesome people on FF. _

_Secondly; I want to thank Petersgirl2011 for the awesome reviews! I really appreciate them, and am glad to hear you are enjoying the story thus far._  
_  
WARNING: This chapter contains strong subject matter, it is kind of dark, and very morbid. If you are squeamish; I recommend skimming through this chapter. I do not recommend skipping for the simple fact that there are something's revealed in this chapter that are key to the story as a whole. It starts to get...shady...about half way through this chapter..Just a heads up._

* * *

_Chapter Six: Hard Days Night _

* * *

Annell bum-rushed her way into the local police department, demanding to speak with someone. The sun had barely risen, leaving the sky a strange inky blue. Allowing the door to slam shut loudly behind her, more than a few deputies and their 'perps' stopped to have a glance at the irate young woman. One young boy with his pants sagging around his hips, and a sideways trucker cap, looked back at his arresting officer.

"Whoa, bitch is heated." Considering that she paid a lot of money to keep to police out of her business, she was more than a little irked. The small blonde woman at the desk swallowed thickly.

"Sheriff Cole, is in interrogation room one, ma'am. He can't see you right now."

"Then get his ass out here." Annell stomped a flip flop clad foot. Still, in her pajama pants and a black tank top. Her hair looked like she hadn't even brushed the sleep out of it.

"I can't do that ma'am. Can I take a message?" Her fists clenched. Motherfucker! Both women turned as a throat cleared behind them.

"Hello, Miss. Propkovic. What can I do for you?" A rounded, pleasantly plump looking man smiled. His grey hair framed the bald spot in the center of his head. The silver Sheriff's badge glinted in the early morning sunlight.

"Where is Ivan?" She hissed through gritted teeth at the older man.

"Mister Lazhuin has been taken to County, can we please talk about this in my office?" He gestured to the slightly ajar oak door. Nodding; she followed the ageing man. Her eyes narrowed at the cluttered mess. Boxes stacked on a far vinyl chair. Dust collected on photos that sat on the cluttered mass of papers in the center of his desk, shutting the door with a snap. He fixed her with an irritated gaze. "Annell, you can't just show up here." He groaned, plopping into his desk chair with a sigh. Messaging his temples, he looked up at the angry tattooed woman. "We didn't arrest him… It came from higher up the food chain." Rifling through a seemly unending mess of papers.

"For what!?" Quirking an eye brow; a small smirk tugged at his thin lips.

"Umm, let's see." He finally located the particular paper he'd been searching for. "Obstruction of justice...Witness tampering; and statutory rape."

"Excuse me!" Annell screeched.

"Apparently the DA has it on good authority that your dear Ivan knocked up a fifteen year old prostitute." Annell visibly blanched. "They're getting a blood test as we speak."

* * *

Nikolai sat in an office two towns over, a smug smirk on his lips, as he drummed his fingers against the wood of an expensive looking office chair. Wearing his normal street clothes, a grey t shirt and jeans he waited. His steely grey eyes landing on the photos behind the desk. A Spanish man in his early thirties clutched a pretty Latin woman to his side; two small children in their arms. The smiles on all of their faces were heart-warming; they were happy. Happy, in a way that he would never be. At forty-six years old Vory v Zakone was all he'd ever known. He'd been criminal most of his life; starting young with petty theft, then a few frauds. But it wasn't until a Siberian prison that he became a Vory. He started out low, but worked his way up. Keeping his head down, he did whatever the high-ranking members asked, from murders to extortion…..that's when he met Vladimir.

" Ahhh, Nikolai I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you in one piece!" the same Spanish man from the photos shut his office door. A bright white smile on his face and his brown eyes shining as Nikolai stood, they shook hands.

"You believed I wouldn't be?" His thick accent tainted his words. Taking his seat, he watched Special Agent Ramirez take the opposite one.

"No, well I've heard through grapevine Miss. Propkovic has been having…well, a series of unfortunate events lately." He bit back a chuckle.

"You could say that." Nikolai agreed. Sliding his sunglasses off, he tucked them in his shirt pocket. "She has allied herself with some small town biker group…nothing to be worried about."

"I've heard; I heard. "Ramirez nodded, pensively. "Do you have anything for me, possibly to take her down yet?" Nikolai had been an informant for years. He'd come right when the case had been opened, Juan had still been young and wet behind the ears. Nikolai had easily made the man's career what it was today.

"Nyet; she's careful. Always sends orders down the chain of command. It goes through four of five other Vory before it is carried out…She doesn't get her hands dirty anymore…. She's very careful, but she will slip soon. But Ivan Luzhiun….her enforcer. He has a...relationship with a woman, a prostitute that works for Annell. She is eighteen now but he started fucking her when she was only fifteen."

"Do you have proof?" Ramirez perked up in his seat. His hand clasped together in front of him.

"How about a baby? He is father, honor is big deal, and he won't deny it. For poetic reasons; you should take blood."

* * *

Annell paced her office, her hands trembling, jaw clenched. How did they know about Katerina? Ivan and Katerina had been together for years. She was his wife now, and she had long paid off the debt she owed. They were happy, Statutory rape? It was never like Ivan forced the girl, as far as she knew. Granted, she never asked, she didn't really care and she probably wouldn't have done anything even if he had. she couldn't have, even if she wanted to. Vladimir was Boss had changed, Ivan, Katerina and little Oxanna, they were family. The baby, only other Vory knew about the baby, and only very few.  
Flopping down tiredly into her desk chair, she laid her forehead against her palms. Taking a deep breath, she pressed a cigarette between her lips. She had a fucking snitch. Dark purple circles colored her eyes, confessing a definite lack of sleep. She hadn't slept in days. Gazing through her lashes, she store at an old picture. A young Annell maybe fifteen, stood scowling at the camera. Clad in old bell bottom looking jeans, and a black 'Aerosmith' T - shirt, her middle finger was raised at the camera, as Ivan and Nikolai stood on either side of the rowdy teen. Ivan's now bald head, sported a dark brown crew cut with an unmistakable receding hairline, and his head was tossed back in laughter. At what, she didn't remember. Nikolai's face was younger looking, and if it were possible he looked a little less…haunted. The much older man, with his deep brown slicked back locks, only beginning to salt and pepper at the temples, store down straight ahead at the camera, not even a hint of a smile. A knock at the door, made her lift her head.  
"What?" she growled.

"The Czech is on the phone." Demetri stuck his head through the door.

_"We have a problem."_ George's haggard voice spoke lowly. His voice sounded tired, stressed and generally assaulted. But that wasn't about to change. As Annell swiped her tongue over her top row of teeth, she poked at the inside of her cheek.

"Of course, we do." She chuckled sarcastically. "Is it too much to ask for things to go right lately? Everything's all fucked up, why this would be any different!" she slapped her thigh, her eyes red rimmed and glassy.

_"Ivan was arraigned early this morning, without a lawyer. He pleaded guilty. He won't deny the kid." _Annell sighed, leaning back in her desk chair. Propping her elbow on the arm, she rested her temple against her fist.

"I knew he wouldn't." She confessed. "I didn't expect him too. He won't deny his wife and child, and honestly if he did, I think I'd be disappointed. He's a good man."

_"A good man that fucks fifteen year old whores…"_ George grumbled.

"Watch it." Annell hissed into the receiver pressed against her ear. "I seem to remember something about a young girl that worked for Daddy….who mysteriously had her debt cleared and lives in Tucson, Arizona now."

_"She was seventeen!"_ George maintained.

"Oh well, excuse me. People who live in glass houses, shouldn't throw stones, my dear."

_"No,"_ he grumbled _"I'd rather throw a fucking brick at this point. He won't get bail. Flight risk, you know all that shit. So you're going to be down an enforcer, and a cleaner."_

"I'll live. Simon can take over most of Ivan's duties, and I'll break up most of his other duties …just see what you can do to help Ivan out,"

_"I can't make any promises."_ Annell dropped her prepaid against the wood of her desk, her head falling forward.

* * *

Annell sat in the passenger seat up front for once, Simon peered over at her. His hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Her eyes store out the window boredly. The dark blue sky was void of any stars, only the silvery pale light of the moon casting down upon the lone car, that speed down the desolate highway. She was slightly annoyed. She hadn't had to play Undertaker in years, but with Ivan in lock-up she had little choice. She had seriously considered sending Nikolai, but with the rising tension between the pair and his more-than-obvious distaste for the deal she had made with SAMCRO, she decided soundly: The last thing she needed was his temper fucking up everything she'd worked for, and paid for out the nose. She wrung her hands, eyeing the duffle bag and other items neatly placed on the backseat over her shoulder.  
Now, she understood. Understood why her father had made it his business to make sure she knew this particular skill. If one could call it that. Simon was the first to admit; that while he knew the steps and the process. He didn't have the stomach for it. Ivan had always been her go to man for this type of need. Nikolai on occasion, but alas those options were void. "_If you want something done right, do it yourself." _ She thought with a nod. Oh, this was going to be a long night.

Jax paced, as the corpse of a man laid on the floor. Chibs, Juice and Tig waited as their President ran his hand over his head for what had to be the twentieth time in the last five minutes. Of course, the cleaner had to be in prison right now! And where the hell was Skeeter? On a fucking vacation. That man never took a fucking vacation in all the years he'd known him. Christ. Luckily, Miss. Propkovic had a cleaner on standby, and he was on his way. This deal might just be paying off better than planned. Without knock or warning the backdoor to the clubhouse swung open without ceremony. Annell strode in with a large black haired, green eyed hulk behind her. Both extremely well dressed. Annell was clad in a black seemly skin tight pencil skirt and equally tight button down, a black duffle bag hanging from her hand.

"Good evening, gentlemen." She smiled chipperly. Dropping the bag next to the easily four hundred pound corpse of a man, with graying matted hair, Jax offer a lopsided smirk.

"Is this the cleaner?" He gestured to the man behind her. Simon snorted. Hell no, he wasn't the damn cleaner. Tig's eyes openly roamed the diminutive woman. Who would have thought some Russian gash would be such a babe? He'd openly admit she wasn't the sort he normally would've went for: Her tits were too small, her skin was almost unnaturally pale, and she could stand to gain a few pounds. But what her tits lacked, her ass more than made up for. Round and firm, that thin layer of black material barely hid the slight jiggle it had to it as she popped a hip. Oh yeah, it was a great ass. He wanted to just take a bite out of it.

"I am not…She is the Undertaker." Simon smirked, pointing a beefy calloused finger at the woman, who openly circled the body. She paused, her calculating cold eyes landing on Jax. A small thin lipped smile appeared, she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners? This is Simon. He is…Well, he's mostly takes care of my girls, but tonight he'll be assisting. If I need it." Her smile grew wider, showing off her teeth. "Which I assure you I won't." Simon chuckled, shaking his head. She was so damned cocky sometimes.

" These are some of my guys; Tig, Juice and Chibs." Jax pointed out each one, her blue eyes landing on each face as it was pointed out to her. What a strange bunch. They didn't seem to fit together, the tall graying man with scars on his face, a young…boyish man with even stranger tattoos on his head and last but not least, two sets of blue eyes met. Annell was almost stopped in her tracks, he looked at her in an almost predatory fashion. His gaze was piercing and a bit unnerving, for the simple fact that it felt as if he was picturing her without any clothes on.

"It's a pleasure." She managed to spit out.

"Same 'ere, lass." Chibs nodded. With a swift nod, she resumed the task at hand, circling the body she squatted down, the skirt of her dress rising provocatively up her thighs. Her lips pursed in thought she slid her glasses into place.

"That's one ugly motherfucker." Simon said, chuckling as he leaned against the pool table. Annell narrowed her eyes, casting a harsh look over her shoulder.

"Show some respect for a dead man. How long has he been dead?" she glanced at Jax, waiting for her answer.

"Maybe a little over an hour."

"Good, rigor hasn't set in." She stood, fishing some items out of her duffle bag. The two most sinister of which were a set of pliers and a bolt cutter. "Alright, I'm going to start with the teeth, then I'm going to do his fingers…. If anyone is squeamish, I suggest you leave." Tig's brow shot up to his forehead. There was no way this little gash was going to be able to do this. This was something he had to see. A sick fasciation filling him, as he watched the little woman, climb on top of the body, her skirt rising higher up on her thighs, a pair of pliers held tightly in her tiny hand. Kicking off a pair of black high heels, she placed her feet on either side of his head. If the bastard had been alive he would have seen right up her skirt.

"Shit, bet the fucker wishes he was alive now." Tig snickered, earning a very annoyed glare from his President. Chibs tilted his head to the side, a small smirk finding its way to his face. Annell rolled her eyes, a sigh passing her lips. A sense of morbid fascination filled the room as the men watched as she gripped each tooth, using her feet to brace herself and using her full weight, she popped each tooth out with a sickening crack. Dropping them into a small Ziploc bag. Simon had a strange smirk on his face as he watched the SAMCRO men stare at the young woman. With precision, she gripped each enameled bone, leaning her weight back, she pulled, putting her back into the task at hand. Pulling a particularly yellowed tooth, she held paused holding it up, she inspected it. Her eyes narrowed, as she twisted the large molar.

"Somebody should have bought you a tooth brush." She spoke to the corpse. With a heavy sigh, she stood, her knees giving a crack in protest, smoothing out her skirt. She dropped the dirtied pair of pliers back into the bag. She wiped her brow, and rolled the sleeves of her lavender button down up to her elbows. With strange roughness, she gripped the corpse's hand taking her time; she splayed out each finger before picking up the bolt cutters. Heavy and bulky, she bent at the waist, giving each man a wondrous view of her backside. Sandwiching the thumb between the sharpened scissor-like blades she pushed the handles together. The eerie crunch sound filled the room as the digit was freed from its' hand.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Splat.

Annell blinked wildly, as a stream of deep red splashed across her pale alabaster face. Scowling, she used the back of her hand to wipe away some from her forehead. "Gentlemen, we have a bleeder." She chuckled manically. Juice looked practically green as he shook his head. Announcing to no one in particular that he needed to make a phone call. Promptly leaving, the young woman quirked an eyebrow. "Was it something I said?" Tig adjusted himself. He was half mast, and really couldn't say why. But this…This was fucking hot. The petite woman, her pretty face smattered with blood, contrasting against her pale skin. It was morbidly beautiful.

Crunch. Crunch.

She was fixated on her task, focused. Her face twisted in concentration, lips pursed and jaw set. As she finished up the last ring finger, a gold plain wedding band clattered to the floor. She eyed it with distaste as she snipped off the last digit.

"I think I'm in fucking love." Tig whispered, leaning into Chibs. The Scotsman quirked an eyebrow and shook his head.  
"Yer one sick fuck, Tiggy." The Scotsman muttered.

'I'm gonna marry that bitch." He joked. Stooping down, she scooped up the evidence of her work, dumping the contents into the same small Ziploc. Seemly oblivious to the conversation taking place mere feet away.

"Head's up!" she called to Simon, tossing the baggie at the hulk of a man. "Get rid of that, but wait." Shoving her hands violently into the man's black trouser pockets, she fished out a wallet. With little thought or care she tossed it to the dark haired, finely dressed man. "That too." Catching it with one large hand, Simon nodded wordlessly. Standing, she snapped off the sickly green latex gloves, turning them inside out in the process. She heaved them at the man. Who again, caught them with ease. "Can you get me my purse?" she asked sweetly, her tone strangely unaffected by the overwhelming grimness of her situation. She was surprised when the tall, wildly dark haired man, Tig. Quickly grabbed the black handbag off the pool table, bringing it to her. He gazed down at her, his blue eyes openly staring down at the small gash. Coiling her small fingers around the straps, fishing for her cigarettes. She placed one between her lips, as she kept her head down fishing for her misplaced lighter.

"I got it, doll." The man beside her grunted. Flicking his lighter, he waved the flame in front of her. Leaning in, she smirked.

"Thanks. "Blue-gray smoke coiled from her lips towards the ceiling. Leaning back, she pressed her hips against the pool table. She looked up into the pale blue set of eyes. "So… what're we doing here?" she asked. She didn't look to Jax, her eyes almost pinned to the wildly crazed set that store down at her. "Do you want it in pieces? Do you want to cut him open, fill him with bleach and get rid of him? How do you want to do this?" She took a hard pull off her cigarette, she waved her hand over her shoulder at the already mutilated body.

"In pieces!" Tig answered overly-eager, almost giddily,

"I don't think that's necessary." Jax said confidently. His hands on his hips, he fixed the Sergeant-at Arms with a glare.

"Oh come on. Let her cut 'em up!" Annell smirked, popping a hip she eyed her still abandoned shoes next to the corpse. Shaking her head slowly; a long slicked back ponytail, swaying back and forth. The strange one, Tig had an almost child-like giddiness to him at the thought of the potential dismemberment.

"May I give my…expert opinion?" she said, her voice deep and husky. Jax sighed, running a hand over his tired face.  
"By all fuckin' means."

"I say: I cut him up, put the pieces in trash bags with a little bleach…walah! Goodbye DNA." She bent her leg slightly, resting her bare foot on the top of her other. Taking a deep drag, she exhaled another cloud of smoke. "I've a got a hatchet in the trunk." She supplied, almost boredly. She examined her nails.

"You got a hatchet in your trunk?" Jax asked incredulously, his eyebrows high. He had been right looks were deceiving, very much so it would seem.

"I'm like the boy scouts: I'm always prepared."

"Really, doll?" Tig eyed her suggestively. Again, being forced to adjust the massive hard-on that pressed painfully against the denim of his jeans. She seemed to miss the suggestion in his words as she pushed off the table, cigarette dangling precariously from her lips.

"I'll be right back." She called over her shoulder, her hips swaying sensually from side to side as her bare feet made small slapping sounds against the hardwood floor. The door shutting soundly behind the small woman. Tig pointed a ringed finger at the door, his eyes wide with lust.

"I'm gonna fuck the shit outta that bitch." He announced to the room full of his brothers, earning a hard look from Jax followed by a: "Leave 'er alone, Tig."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I want to thank everyone for the kind reviews! I really appreciate them, and the interest in this story. There are no warnings for this chapter or the chapter to follow. Both are a bit lighter, I wanted to give you all a glimpse at how Annell's 'family' operates in a happier setting, the dynamics and such. Plus, the next two chapters will be the first real interaction between the Sons and Vory v Zakone as 'partners' per say. If you have a moment please check out the Blood & Ink video/trailer on youtube. I don't make them often, as I don't really like to assign 'faces' to my characters. I like the reader to have their own image but alas, I felt productive today, so please insert whatever face you wish…..youtube watch?v = 3Wm6JDoiMhQ (just remove the spaces.) Or you can find the link on my Twitter.. ( Nikkianne88)_

* * *

_Chapter Seven: Born on the Fourth of July  
_

* * *

Annell shut the door behind her with a snap, heels dangling from her hand. She padded lightly against the deep colored hardwood of the foyer. Tossing her purse and keys onto the teal colored chaise lounge, under a particularly expensive painting. She never used it; it was expensive, but that was its purpose. Catching her shit. Padding down the photo-lined hallway; the moonlight casting shadows against the cream colored walls. She stripped. Kicking her skirt into the far corner as she walked, tossing her blood smattered shirt onto the center island. She'd deal with that later. The house was seemingly immaculate. The lightly tanned ceramic tile of the kitchen floor, spotless. The deep brown painted walls boasted a slightly lighter shade cabinetry. Throwing one open, she grabbed a glass. Walking slowly over to the refrigerator, she filled the water glass to the brim with a nice merlot. Classy, wine out a water glass.  
Sighing, she a seat at the kitchen table, her head tilted to the side as she found herself staring out the French doors that lead out onto the deck. It had been a long night. A long...excedingly _strange _night. Jax had thanked her. After she was done hacking away at a four hundred pound body for at least two hours. The older graying, but still dark-haired man with the scars had offered to help. Only to be lightly held back by the _strange one._ That's what she and Simon had taken to calling him on the car ride back: _ the strange one._ He was not out-right weird; there was just something about him. Maybe it was the way every time she glanced his way he seemed to be watching. Or maybe it was that while the others seemed to stomach her processing the body, to simply endure it. He was absolutely enthralled by it. Watching her every move, and she didn't miss that large bulge down his leg either. They'd followed her to her car, she was shocked when the strange one opened the door for her before Simon had even had the chance. She wasn't even sure why she'd done it. But yet, she wasn't sure about most things now days. She told them of her plans for the weekend, spouting off that she was having a BBQ for the upcoming holiday, and that they were more than welcome to come. The rational mind screaming all the while, as Jax accepted.  
She tended to do that; her father had always scolded her for it. A tendency to act on impulse, she had tried to squash it in later years, but obviously it was still alive and well.

* * *

Juice's finger deftly flew across the keyboard of his laptop, his eyes slightly narrowed at the screen in concentration. Pulling up a few pages he'd had in mind. He typed some more, Tig was sprawled across a far couch a pretty blonde pressed herself against he's side. Her enormously fake tits in his face as the hauntingly light blue eyes, store down at them. He sighed, something about the enormous tanned mounds, was lacking. Juice let out a low whistle.  
"What is it, Juicey?" Chibs asked from his perched seat on a bar stool, slamming back a beer

"That Russian chick; she's got a rap sheet a mile long. Shit." Tig's head snapped up, as he pushed himself up off the couch. The blonde falling to the wayside, she pouted. Tig stood behind Juice, his eyes peering over at the screen.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense."

"Let's see…ugh, promotion of prostitution, witness tampering, .assault; assault…assault with a deadly weapon. Racketeering, conspiracy, and more assault." Juice rattled off the list. Tig whistled.

"That's a lotta' assaults, Tiggy." Chibs chuckled, his beer pressed between his lips as he took a swig." Sounds like your lil' lass is brawler." Tig laughed. As he made his way to the bar, grabbing a cigarette, he lit it up.  
"Doubt it."

* * *

The large house was simply buzzing with activity. It was eleven o'clock in the morning and already the humidity hung heavily in the air. People buzzed in every direction. Annell poised in front of a large stainless steel stove, her hair tied in a messy thick bun on the crown of her head, clad in ratty black cotton short and a ribbed tank top. Her head dunked down as she pulled out a slightly browned lemon meringue pie from the oven, plopping it on the counter. A young girl clutching the hand of a toddler, both with pale icy blonde hair, and big doll-like blue eyes. Setting the child down on the tile, she padded next to Annell.

"Is there anything I can do?" Her accent was thick and heavy. Her big doll eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. Big prominent circles were under her eyes, confessing a lack of sleep. Annell turned; taking in the girl, quickly wrapping her in a tight embrace, Annell's small hands rubbed the woman's back.

"Are you alright?"

"I think so, I don't know." The young woman confessed, laying her head on Annell small shoulder. "I miss him." Pulling away; Annell held the girl by her biceps, her blue eyes roaming over the girl.

"I know, I've done my best."

"I know, Nel. I am grateful. This is my fault; I'm the reason he's in jail." A fresh batch of tears brewed in the young womans eyes, threatening to spill over. Annell nodded; padding over to a cabinet she pulled out a few bright colorful toys. Neon colored animal shaped squirty toys, Annell popped open the net mesh bag, spilling them onto the floor in front of the toddler. The little girl with big blue eyes, and pale blonde pigtails smiled a big toothy grin. "

"Tanks, Tetka Nealy." The little girl grinned up at Annell as she swatted down, laying out the small toys in front of the girl.

"Thank you, Annell." Katerina sniffled, wiping at her eyes furiously. Annell smirked, standing back up she glanced over her shoulder.

"Please," Annell waved a hand flippantly. "It's nothing. You need to take care of yourself, and that little girl. Let us worry about Ivan." Annell stirred a pot on the stove with a wooden spoon.

"I know- It's just so hard. I don't know anyone other than the family. I don-"

"You let us take care of you. You are family. We won't leave you and Oxanna out in the rain."

* * *

The Sons rode through the densely wooded back roads, the think green brush, made the air uncharacteristically cool, but the heavy dampness still hung heavily in the air. Making a hard right turn onto a long gravel road the Sons roared onto a long driveway. Leading up to a large, Victorian style home. Cars littered the driveway; parked to the sides, and even up nearer to the garage. Jax whistled lowly; what the Sons saw was not exactly what they'd been expecting from the Vory v Zakone.  
Children ran happily through the large yard, taking turns on a Slip n' Slide as they heaved water balloons at each other. Cutting off the engines, the distant sounds of Bruce Springsteen wafted in from the deck area. A pretty teenaged girl, clad in denim short shorts and a tube top held sparklers and a lighter, handing out the tiny fireworks to whatever child came her way.

"Happy Independence Day!" She smiled widely, waving her lighter holding fist at the men. Leaning against a green Mercedes, with a foot bent, resting against the car door was Simon. His light fair skin took on a pinkish hue in the heat. His dark black hair was slicked back, as he stood in cargo shorts and a cuffed navy polo shirt.

"Hello, nice to see you could make it." He pushed off the car walking towards the small group of leather clad men. Tossing the cigarette butt under the car, the exhaled a cloud of smoke. "It's nice to see yous again. Annell will be pleased." Holding out a hand the men shook, exchanging greetings.

"Thanks for the invite, man." Jax said.

"Oh, please. That was Annell." Waving a hand in the direction of the house. "This is Annell's house, her party...We do it every year. Come now, we'll get some beers in those hands." Simon smiled widely, waving the Sons to follow him further up the driveway, in the half-opened garage door and in a smaller wooden door. Only to accosted by the loud and grating sounds of an accordion being played...well, badly... by a little old man cover from head to toe in tattoos that sat in the corner of the kitchen, a beer on the table in front of him as her fumbled with the instrument.

"Ostanovit', ostanovit'. My ears are bleeding!" a distinctly feminine voice called, as a small woman, bustled from around the corner. Small in stature and wielding a dish towel, she flapped the piece of cloth at the man. "Go drink be merry, but enough with that noise!" Chibs had to do a double take. That was; the same strange creature from a few days ago, yes. But she looked completely different. Not in some tight elegant suit of sorts; she wore cut off jean shorts, and a tank top. Her hair piled half-hazardly, yet sexily on top her head. The old man mumbled something back intelligible before sauntering out the glass patio doors.

"Nellie, your guests!" Simon chipped merrily, as he all but skipped over the double doored fridge, dipping his head inside. Whirling around, her alabaster skin took on a bright red hue, as she smoothed her hands over her messy hair.

"Boys," she smiled. "I'm sorry, I've lost all track of time….I have to change. But please make yourselves at home. I'll only be a minute."

* * *

Nikolai Romanov sat on the back deck the sun beating down on him even through the oversized table umbrella. A pretty little blonde perched in his lap as she tangled her fingers, in the greying slightly overgrown hair at the base of his skull. Yet, behind his dark sun glasses. Her steely grey eyes were glued to Annell through the patio door glass. Annell and the oh…seven leather-clad men she was talking to. Changed and fresh, she had a pair of fashionably short-shorts on and a dressy yet summery light pink sleeveless sheer blouse on. It wasn't until she turned her back to him, that he could see: there was no back. Just a large section of white lace.

"Hey." George 'The Czech' halted his conversation with the four other older men at the table, his aged blue gaze was hard, and unrelenting. "I'd watch who you look at like that." Nikolai narrowed his eyes at the old man across the table.

"I no idea what you're talking of, old man." The venom dripped from his words as he practically spat out the last part.

"The hell you don't. Just a warning; you play with fire you're going to get burnt. She's her father's daughter in even the less than ideal ways. Watch yourself, boy." The other men at the table watched the exchange with a general ease. Hands clasped around their drinks, but the eyes darting between the two like a tennis match. "Oh and for the record; you are not all that much younger than I, boy."

Igor; a younger red haired man in his early thirties, clad in cargo shorts and a white a dark blue stripped polo pushed away from the table. Wiping the tiny beads of sweat that had collected on his brow. "On that note, I need drink. I think I'll find my wife and see if she can fix me a plate of whatever Nel has cooking."

"She's helping Nel out in the kitchen last time I checked." Another older man added, eager to break the tension.

"Careful, it smells like heaven in there!"


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight: Always a Woman_  
_"She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes. She can ruin your faith with her casual lies, and she only reveals what she wants you so see. Oh, she hides like a child, but she's always a woman to me."- Billy Joel  
_

* * *

It had been a beautiful day for a BBQ. The sun shone brightly, not a cloud in the sky. It was hot, but not ungodly so, and every so often a breeze would blow through. Simon had taken it upon himself to be the unofficial 'go-between' between the two sets of men. Introducing, making conversation, even translating. As the Sons sat around a large picnic table with Simon and two others, they traded battle stories.

"See that bitch.' Demetri brushed a stray icy blonde hair from his crystal blue eyes. He pointed a tattooed finger to a large ugly scar that marred the inside of his right forearm. "That's the first and only time I learned not to fuck with Nellie." Simon laughed loudly at the memory, as Demetri cast a look over his shoulder as if to see where she was. The two other Russian men burst out laughing.

"In her defense you fuckin' earned that shit." Simon laughed, elbowing Demetri in the ribs as he lit a cigar. Leaning back in his chair. Jax quirked an eyebrow as the others waited,

"What'd you do?!" Juice blurted out, earning a smack in the back of the head from Happy. Simon laughed even louder, chugging back his beer.

"Go ahead, tough guy. Tell 'em what you did."

"Alright..." Demetri sighed, hanging his head a bit as he lit a cigarette. "I'll admit I was young, so was she…" he exhaled. "Shit, I was nineteen, anyway. I thought I was the fucking shit man, like really fucking Rico Suave type shit."

"Nobody says 'Rico Suave' anymore, jackass." The young red haired man interrupted.

"And you're no Puerto Rican, dumb shit," Simon jumped in, as the table burst out. Tig hung back in his seat, listening with half an ear as he scanned his surroundings. Where had that little gash run off too? Loud boisterous laughing filled the yard as a horde of children gathered around the young woman. Laughing and screaming, she tossed her head back as a barrage of water balloons hit her, her dark hair plastered against her face.

"Back! Back you little hooligans!" she laughed. Bending down she picked something up from the grass, he smirked as she chased after the children wielding a hose. "What you don't like it now? It was all fun and games when you were ganging up on me!" The children giggled loudly, splitting up in seperate directions, as she squirted them. Dropping the hose she scooped up a small girl tossing her over a thin boney shoulder, and spinning.

"That's not the way I heard it." Tig was drawn back in, as the redhead spoke. A smirk on his lips as he rose a mocking eyebrow at Demetri. The Sons laughed.

"No, no I was there!" Simon drunkenly rose a hand. "He didn't grab her ass." He leaned into Chibs conspiratorially. "It was much farther north, he grabbed full on puss." Demetri blanched. "I didn't mean to! Anyway, she turned around and knifed the shit outta me."

"You're lucky Vlad never heard about that." Simon muttered softly. Almost mournfully, he took a drink.

"Vlad?" Jax took a long swig off his own beer.

"Her father, he was our boss...before...Well, anyways he would've fucking cut Demetri's balls off."

"He was a mean sonovabitch." Demetri nodded. "Good man, good leader but mean as fuck."

"What're you talking about? She's just fucking like him." The redhead chuckled, but abruptly stopped when he was met by hard looks from Demetri and Simon. "What?" he rose an eyebrow obtusely. "She is. Love the shit outta her but she's mean as a rattle snake."

"Enough." Simon muttered shaking his head, as he threw Chibs and Jax an apologetic look.

"She is! I saw her feed a man his own balls." Horrified looks ran across the table. Juice's lips twisted in a disgusted scowl, Chibs' eyebrow rose to the heavens and Tig leaned in thoroughly intrigued, his hand did briefly clutch his 'goods' in protection. Simon shook his head slowly, but didn't argue.

"That she did. "Demetri laughed. "Bastard deserved it too, and she didn't make him 'eat' them per say."

"No, she just cut them off and shoved them in his mouth." The redhead finished his beer, slamming it down on the table a little too hard.

"What are we talking about?" a feminine voice interrupted, as the redhead blanched. His pale skin turning pink as if he'd been caught by mommy. Annell stood behind him in all her glory, her sheer blouse had turned almost completely see through from water, as she still held the giggling little girl over her shoulder. "I just wanted to see, has anyone seen Melody?" she smirked. Craning her neck, and dramatically scanning her eyes around. "I can't find her anywhere."

"No, I haven't." Demetri laughed.

"I only see that sack o' potatoes ya' got on yer shoulder." Chibs smirked as the little girl giggled louder, her small hand pounding against Annell's bottom.

"I'm right here!" she squealed.

"Did you here that? I don-" quickly flipping the girl over her shoulder, she caught her. Holding the girl on her hip. "On there you are!" Annell's face contorted in an over-dramatized look of surprise. "Here you go; I believe this belongs to you." Annell laughed as she plopped the child in the red head's lap. He scowled as he realized his daughter was soaking wet.

"Tetka Nellie is silly." The little girl boasted loudly, she smiled widely. Revealing a small gap where he left front tooth had once been.

"Is that right, darlin'?" Jax smiled broadly at the little girl. Chibs quirked an eyebrow at Tig as his took a long swig, before mouthing _'Tetka'_?

"Yup. She's silly, and fun. She buys me presents!" the little girl with bright red pig tails proudly exclaimed. She eyed the strange men sitting at her 'Tetka's table before decide they must have been alright. She flashed another gap-toothed smile. She liked the man with the lines on his cheeks. He talked funny. "Do you wanna see my fairy Barbie? She's really pretty! And she's got boobies!" The man slapped his palm against his forehead. Annell tossed her head back and laughed as did most of the men.

"Mel-"

"When I get bigger I'm gonna have boobies too, just like my mommy." The little girl continued as she climbed down from her father's lap. "An' they're gonna be big! But Tetka Nellie doesn't have any boobies." The redhead choked, as Chibs sprayed his mouth full of beer, Tig smirked. Oh, she has boobies, alright. Annell's cheeks burned a dark shade of crimson as she opened and closed her mouth.

"Oh honey, I have boobies." She smirked. Her tone was sweet and kind as she squatted down next to the child. "They're just…kind of small."

"Maybe they'll get bigger!" The child said hopefully, as she clapped her hands. Annell laughed and shook her head as the little girl trotted off merrily. All the way rambling about 'boobies'. Standing back up, she dusted her hands off on her thighs.  
"Your kid drenched my cigarettes. Gimme one." She turned to the red head, a smile still on her full lips.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay, she's a kid." Annell waved a hand dismissively. Taking the cigarette he'd fished out of his pocket, she lit it. "She's going through a phase…" Annell turned her attention to her guests. "She's obsessed with tits." Annell took a hard drag off her cigarette, she could feel the pale blue eyes burning into the side of her face. Choosing to ignore it, she smiled at Chibs.

"Hell, I'm obsessed with tits." Chibs laughed. "Nothin' wrong with loving some tits." Happy threw in for good measure, as the redhead blanched.  
"It's just a phase…I hope."

* * *

Tig found himself wandering into the kitchen to get another beer. When the kid came back, he just, he had to get the hell out of there. Cute kid, really cute. But that fucking Barbie she drug back with her….. and it wasn't just one, she came back totting an arm full. Freaky. Those wide painted one eyes, and plastic faces…just ….fuck it! He needed another beer. Perched at the breakfast bar fiddling with her phone, Annell nursed a beer.

"What can I get you?" she tossed over her shoulder. Flashing one of her smiles. She clamored down from her stool, as she went over to the fridge. "Beer?" she called over her shoulder.

"Yeah. Thanks, Beautiful." Taking a stool next to him, she slid a brown bottle in front of him, popping the top.

"Everything okay, you hungry? I can-"

"I'm fine.' He smirked, as she sighed.

"Sorry, it's a…thing. I have I like to make sure my guests are taken care of." She took a swig off her beer, her gaze pinned to the granite counter top as she felt his eyes searing into her. Tig bit back a comment at her admission. Just barely, He desperately wanted to answer her. 'Well, you could take care of me...' it was on the tip of his tongue. He could think of about fifty ways this party could be better for him, and they all involved Little Miss. Russia over there. So he settled for staring at her. She changed, no longer wet...dripping wet. She had changed into black loose pajama pants and a white snug tank top, her cleavage peeking out the neckline. She was tiny, very tiny. Maybe five foot, he easily towered over her and generally small. She could be fun, tiny enough that you could just throw he-

"Are you okay?" Her husky voice pierced through his little fantasy. Tig swallowed a gulp of beer his eyes meeting her bright blue ones. They were wide with concern, that was almost…cute.

"Good, doll. I'm good. So where'd you learn all that shit?" Dropping her phone to the counter, she turned to the side on her stool. Facing him she blew out a breath.

"Learn what?" She smirked, as he turned equaling to face her. Their knees touching, as she propped her much shorter legs on the bottom rung of the stool. Tig smirked, quirking an eyebrow.  
"OH! That! I don't know. My father he wanted me prepared for…this... I guess." She laughed. "Grabbing a cigarette from the small crystal dish, she fumbled looking for a light. Just as she stood a flame was right front of her face, his large ringed hand cupping it. "Thanks. I think he made me learn because he was trying to scare me." She leaned into the flame, her eyes never leaving the light haunting ones that store down at her.

"Scare you?"

"He never wanted this for me, you know. He never said that but... you know. He wanted me to go to college, have a husband maybe some kids…You got kids?" That was the question that never ceased to drive a fucking knife into his heart.

"Yeah..." she didn't missed the somewhat pained look that passed over the strange mans tanned face.

"Would you want your life for your kids?" she was trying to make a point as she exhaled a cloud of blue grey smoke. She nearly winced as a large calloused hand gripped her thigh firmly, the insanely blue eyes that store at her were glassy and red rimmed.

"You wanna fuck?" Annell blinked rapidly, her mouth was dry. She store up at Tig dumbly, words leaving her. Was he serious? Was this some kind of joke? She opened her mouth and then closed it, only to open it again. A frustrated groan pushing past her lips. Her much smaller, daintier hands gripped his as she removed it from her thigh. "Shit, sorry I-"

"I don't know you." Annell stubbed out her cigarette, her eyes opening assessing him as he'd done to her so many times now. He was attractive, she had a thing for older men. A daddy complex, if you will. He didn't really fit the 'daddy' bill, but he was handsome. Ruggedly handsome, and those eyes… she groaned. Climbing off her stool, she stood to her full height. "No, I don't wanna fuck. I have to serve dessert."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: This is a long chapter. If you don't like that I apologize, however, I could not find the right place to split it into two. It just wouldn't have worked that way. There are warnings for this chapter, and this will be the last warning. I don't want to keep writing them as I'm afraid they'll take away from the surprise or the story and give away too much. So from here on out just assume there might be something offensive in every chapter, and if there isn't, well, maybe you'll be surprised!  
_

* * *

_Chapter Nine: Comfortably Numb_  
_"Hello, is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home?" –Pink Floyd_

* * *

Annell busied herself around the kitchen. She was in recovery, recovery from a very long and strange week. Things were going well, and that made her nervous. Call her a pessimist, but she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She hated feeling that way. Washing a tall water glass, she placed it in the dish drainer leaning heavily against the sink, her palms flat and arms fully extended. She blew out a loud tuft of breath. Her head was a mess lately; Ivan was in prison..again. But god only knew what would happen this time, and she had a snitch. The last few nights she wracked her brain every night as she laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Every night she found herself zeroing in on the same person, every night she got the same answer.  
Roxy. Roxy was Yuri's half-witted, obnoxious cretin of a wife. Annell had never really liked her, hell, she barely tolerated her. Just barely.

Roxy was an ageing fifty-something; who tried to squeeze herself into itity- bitsy clothes intended for teeny boppers. She also carried around about an extra thirty five pounds she didn't need in her middle, and sported a terrible bleach blonde dye job. She tried too hard, which generally made Annell wary. She tried to hard with the 'family', offering help with things that weren't her business, things she no right even knowing about.  
Throwing a dish towel down with an exasperated sigh, Annell run her fingers through her dark tangled hair. Jesus Christ, she had to handle this, and now. Before it got to out of hand, before that stupid fucking bitch touched anyone else, poisoned anyone else's life.  
The loud buzzer of the coffee pot against the far tiled backsplash announced that it had finished its task. A small smile took up residence on Annell's lips, as she stalked to the pot and poured a fresh hot delicious cup.  
_  
"You wanna fuck?"_ she bit back a laugh. It was almost comical now, after the fact. She didn't realize it at the time, but the man; Tig, had been dead serious. That in its self-made her chuckle. Did that actually work with those 'Crow Eaters?' It must. She shook her head as she laughed silently leaning back against the kitchen counter casually. That was just sad. She supposed her men weren't much more creative though; in fact, possibly less. She'd seen Simon and Ivan merely snap their fingers and grab a girl more than a few times. Nikolai, when she was younger had romanced her…ish. If you could call buying and underage girl cigarettes and booze, telling her how pretty she was, and lying the size of your cock 'romance'. Lying to an impressible girl that you love her just to get in her pants…how romantic. She groaned. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How the hell could you be such a dumbass? He never even said he loved in in all the years they'd spent….attached. 'I love your eyes, I love you voice,' and of course 'I love your pussy.' Finally somewhat older, wiser. Annell in the privacy of her kitchen, coffee in hand took stock of her life. She gazed upon herself with fresh eyes. There was something wrong with her, something very wrong. She was actually starting to become a little worried. She should care, care that she'd been lied to, care that her 'lover' fucked other women right in front of her, and care that now he avoided her like the plague. But she didn't. She didn't feel anything, and that was scary. Cupping her large, oversized coffee mug she rose it took her lips, taking a big sip. She nearly jumped out of her skin as the loud ring of her cordless phone assaulted her ears. Her eyes still half-lidded and heavy with sleep, she laid her body across the breakfast bar, pushing up on her toes to slither her body farther, barely grasping the cordless with the tips of her fingers. She hit the '_talk' _button.

"What!?" she moaned into the receiver. Brushing herself against the counter, she hopped up backwards, sliding her bottom onto the granite, she tucked her feet under her body.

"Nel?" Simon's voice filled her ears.

"No, it's Lindsay Lohan, you fuckin' idiot. Who else would answer my phone?" she chuckled, as she sipped her coffee, she rested the large mug between her thighs as she lit a cigarette, taking a deep hard drag.

"Whoa, someone didn't have their coffee yet..."

"I've only had two sips, you're interrupting my morning what do you want?" Cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, as she held the cigarette between her thumb and index finger, she rolled it slowly. Eyes glued to the spongy filter, as she changed its shape over and over again.

"Sorry, I just wanted to let you know…I have some business I must take care of in Sacramento." Annell's eyes widened, as she placed the cigarette back between her lips.

"How's your mom?" she asked, holding in the caustic smoke, her voice cracking. She felt like an asshole, she hadn't asked about his ageing mother in months. She was a prick.

"Ahh ….fuck." Simon sighed heavily, into the receiver. "I don't friggin' know anymore, Nel. That's why I need to spend the day down there. She fuckin' doesn't even know me anymore, she thinks dads still alive and doesn't visit…."  
"You're father ran off with that Mexican bitch like what? Fifteen years ago?" Annell's voice was feminine but horse from sleep and smoke, pursing her lips she blew out a tuft of smoke as her face contorted in confusion.

"Yeah, that's what fucked up, she remembers shit from like; thirty years ago, but not yesterday, for Christ's sake."

"Well, I have some business that needs to be taken care of...today, but you spend the day with your mom. I'll handle it…." She smirked, clasping the mug in her one hand as she had her cigarette between her index and middle fingers, she took a sip.

"Nellie-"

"No, I'll take care of it, this is something….I wanted to take care of …personally anyway." She waving her hand, gesturing as she spoke.

"Don't it's too-"

"Don't tell what to do Simon. I've got it.'

"Annell, you're a boss now…You've got a huge target on you back, you can't be goin' places yourself. I'm your General, I'm your last line of defense-"

"I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Ann-"

"No, last time I check I was Boss, don't presume to tell me what I can and what I cannot do. Spend the day with your mother, give her my love." Annell spoke into the receiver, holding it out from her body. Her thumb pressed the button, hanging up before he had the chance to say anything else. "It's like working with cave men; I swear.' Downing the last of her now, room temperature coffee and taking a last drag before stubbing out her cigarette, she slipped down from the counter and dumping her dirty mug in the sink. Quickly padding down the long hallway, she jogged up the aged wooden stairs, her bare feet slapping against the wood. Hanging off the doorframe with one hand she turned the fixtures on the large glass doored shower stall. This had be taken care of now, it could not wait a second longer. Roxy and Yuri were poison, and she'd be damned before she let the stupid bitch ruin everything she'd worked for. She was not going back to prison, not if she could help it.

* * *

Annell parked the shiny black Lincoln town car at the curb of an old looking, slightly dilapidated home on the corner of 5th and Chestnut. The pastel yellow siding had a strange green algae or moss of some kind growing in places, the aged sun washed shutters needed a fresh coat of paint. About a weeks' worth of newspapers piled up, untouched in front of the door. Annell clad in tight fitting black dress pants and a light pink sleeveless turtleneck, climbed the front steps. Raising her bare right hand, she knocked her small knuckles against the wooden chipped painted door, and waited..and waited…. Huffing loudly, she popped out a hip, her left hand gripped her waist, as she rose her right hand and knocked again, this time more demanding.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'. Christ!" a gruff deep voice called from inside. Annell couldn't help but smirk. Annell had always possessed a husky, yet still very feminine voice. However, Roxy's voice from years of cigarettes and whiskey, was hard to distinguish if you were in fact speaking to a man or a woman. The door swung open; reveling Roxy in all her white trash glory. Brown narrowed eyes store down at the much shorter and younger woman at the door. The planes of her heavily tanned, lined face softened in surprise. Her ratty straw-like blonde hair had deep brown grown out roots, and looked like it hadn't been washed in at least a week. Annell smirked factiously, her blue eyes roaming the older woman. Her large breasts were crammed into a baby pink halter top that was a least two sizes too small.

"Annell…" Roxy sputtered, her yellowed cigarette stained fingers tucked some hair behind her ear as she gaped at the small woman at her door. "What're you….I mean, Yuri…" Roxy continued to stammer. Annell made the much older woman nervous. At least thirty years Annell's senior Roxy had lived a lot of life, seen a lot. But the truth was; the pretty twenty-four year old scared the absolute piss out of the fifty-two year old. Roxy had learned very quickly when she'd started seeing Yuri that the fifteen year old Annell was someone in the family's kid. Unfortunately, she'd never known just whose, until it was too late.  
When Yuri started bringing her around 'his family' she'd actually felt a bit sorry for the overly short, lanky fifteen year old who wore coke-bottle glasses, and little fashion sense. Wearing rock t-shirts and old faded jeans, no make-up, and had no tits and little ass to speak of. She could've been a stunning young woman, she had a classic oval face, and that flawless alabaster skin, full pert lips, and stunning almond-shaped brilliantly blue eyes. She had always had the makings to be beautiful, but surrounded by men and the lifestyle….she needed a mother, and there was a time that Roxy had thought she could act as said mother. She learned very quickly that the teen, at the time was socially awkward, and shy, with a slightly sick, dark sense of humor, and a bad attitude. A bad attitude that no one ever seemed to check her on; it wasn't until she'd been with Yuri a year that she'd accidently seen the sixteen year old process a crime scene….and things changed. She knew what the Vory v Zakone did, how they made their money and she truly tried to not let it change the way she looked at the men. She tried to see each one for the men they were, but she was never able to look at the young Annell the same way.

The unemotional, cool and slight aloofness that had never really bothered her before began to scare the older woman; and she found herself avoiding the girl. Annell suddenly began to resemble the type of teenager that tortured small animals in her bedroom at night; and unfortunately, one drunken night she spoke of this concern a little too loudly at a crowded party. Not only had some of the men who it would seem had a soft spot for the girl heard, but Annell herself had only been mere feet away. As Roxy turned to get another drink from the bar, BANG! The strange resounding metal sound filled the packed room as a metal folding chair collided with the side of Roxy's face, and a small triumphant teenager stood over her, dropping the folded up chair to the plush crimson carpeted floor. She face was twisted in a strange sinister scowl as she chewed on her bottom lip. If you looked close enough you would see her bright blue eyes were glassy and red, tears brimming in her lower lids. '_I love fucking animals, you stupid fucking cow.' _

Eight years later, she could still hear the strained hitch in the girls voice, and as the blackness closed in she could remember the short teenager being pulled into Nikolai's chest, burying her face as he leaned his chin down on the shorter girls head, tossing her a nasty glare just before she'd past out.  
Unfortunately, she learned to late that she was the 'Bosses' kid, and that she was in some ways a fucking 'princess' of sorts. Through Annell, would never admit it, she pretty effectively hurt the young girl's feelings and that transgression apparently was not forgiven easily. She'd watched from a distance as things changed: Annell grew into a woman, an unbelievably beautiful one at that. Her shy shell broke open pretty quickly at eighteen, and shockingly she grew an ass! The tits still lacked though, at least Roxy thought so. In the deepest darkest moments of the night Roxy admitted to herself, the prettier Annell got…the more she hated her. At fifty two now her walls had dried up, she was hot all the time, and her once large perky tits were starting to sag. She knew Yuri was fucking up, she knew about his stars, knew about most of his transgressions. But she couldn't been without him. She'd grown attached to the lifestyle that Vory v Zakone came with; the strange sense of respect that came with be married to one. So, when Annell became boss a few months ago Roxy realized things had to change. She didn't like Annell…she thought she was a psychopath, and a world class bitch, but she could pretend she did. She had to cozy up to that girl, cover her man's ass, if she could get Annell to be her fucking best friend she'd never have to worry about anything. But she'd learned quickly that while something's had changed, others hadn't. Annell was an elephant; an unforgiving spiteful, vindictive and at times manipulative fucking elephant.

"Well, you gonna invite me in? Or am I just going to stand on the goddamn porch all day?' Annell quirked a perfectly arched eyebrow, sliding a pair overly large black sunglasses off her little pert nose, tucking them into her black handbag. Roxy swallowed hard, they'd excommunicated Yuri, sent him back to Kiev months ago. There was no good reason for Annell to be on her doorstep. Not only excommunicated him, but sent him to the damned hospital; they cut his stars off from his shoulders. Something she was sure Annell would've ordered, she was a twisted bitch like that.

"Yeah, yeah come in." Roxy said gruffly, as she shook her head. Stepping out of the doorway, she gestured for Annell to step in. Annell bit back a gag as she stepped in; the aged carpet was covered with stains, the living room stank to high heaven of cat urine, and the outdated wallpaper was peeling in places. "Come on in the kitchen..." Roxy said softly as she passed the young woman, who had disgust etched into her pretty face, but didn't notice. Annell's eyes darted around the room, from the stained cornflower blue carpet, to the yellow drapes, to the half-eaten food that littered the coffee table. Taking a deep breath she followed Roxy, her eyes glued to the floor as she very carefully watched where she stepped. Her high heels clicked as she finally stepped into the even worse kitchen. The faux stone vinyl flooring was missing squares in some places, curling up in others. The dishes in the sink were piled high. Annell shook her head discretely. She knew she was a bit of a control freak, she had a bit of an obsession with her house. She didn't understand how someone could live like this, hell, she couldn't sleep if there was a damn fork in the sink. Trying her best to block it out, she pulled out an aged aluminum folding chair from the table across from where Roxy had taken a seat. She moved to place her purse on the floor next to her, hesitated, and seemed to think better of it. Leaning forward she tucked her purse behind her on the chair.

"I have a few questions for you." Annell said softly, clasping her fingers together on the table top. Her icy blue eyes scanned the kitchen; eyeing the tea kettle on the stove behind Roxy she sighed. "I'd really like some tea, if that's not too much of a bother.'

"No," Roxy swallowed. "I'm sorry, I don't know where my manners are," she stood grabbing the silver kettle, giving it a swirl she heard only a tiny bit of water slosh inside. Leaning over the sink she filled the kettle, Anne gritted her teeth and pulled back her lips in disgust as she didn't rinse it or anything before plopping it back on the stove, and clicking the gas burning to life. "So…I have to say I'm a little shocked to see you." Roxy sighed, as she heaved herself back into her chair.

"I know. I didn't think you'd be here actually; I thought you'd go with Yuri.' Annell crossed her shapely legs under the table. Roxy sighed, shaking her head.

"I can't hack it in the Ukraine, he knows that. I just...I can't..." Annell pursed her lips in thought; her eyes looking heaven ward as she nodded thoughtfully.

"I get that…I can appreciate that. But what I need to know." Annell leaned forward her hands still clasped together as she put her weight on her elbows. "Is did you know about his stars?"

"No," Roxy shook her head, her eyes downcast, as she picked at a piece of invisible lint on her shirt. "I never would- I mean... I would've-"Roxy's eyes seemed to shift nervously.

"Now, Roxy…He's your husband…" unclasping her hands, she casually rested her chin against her fist. "I find it hard to believe he comes home to you every night, but you haven't seen him without a shirt lately." Her tone was light, almost airy and calm. A small smile was on her pink full lips.

"Well you know…menopause is a bitch." Roxy laughed nervously, Leave to Yuri to leave the country with nothing more than some wounded pride and gashes that would heal, but leave her here with this damn woman in her fucking kitchen.

"And so am I..." Annell let out a light airy, feminine laugh. "I thought you knew that. Do not lie to me…" Annell tone just as quickly tone a sinister tone, serious and demanding.

"I swear-"

"Don't lie..." her tone quickly changed again to an overly sugary sweet one, a smile on her lips as she slowly shook her head, her long ponytail swaying gently.

"Alright!" Roxy sighed, her head falling her hands. Her bright red chipped nails combing through her straw-like locks. "I knew! I'm sorry…I just...I just...How do you expect me to sell out my own husband, huh?" Annell shook her head slowly, she'd known it. She was right, of course. There was only one person who could be her rat. She'd never trusted Roxy, the leech that she was…

"You know the code. I expect that you-"cut off by the whistling kettle, her eyes looked behind the older woman, a subtle rage burning in her belly. She wouldn't let this bottom-feeder destroy everything, her work, her family. "I've got it…' she stood, offering a facetious smile. Roxy nodded, never lifting her head. "Ivan was arrested last week; the police found out about Katerina. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that?" Annell questioned. She smirked as she grabbed the handle, placing the kettle on the counter next to the crowded sink. Her hand made its' way into the waist band of her pants.

"Nel, I'd never…Yuri wouldn't, we would never sell out like that." She still hadn't lifted her head. Annell took it as an admission of guilt. She lied before, why wouldn't she now. She should have lifted her head, before she could blink Annell gripped a handful of greasy, gritty blonde hair retching Roxy's head back. Her brown crow-feeted eyes were wide and she yelped loudly.

"Why should I believe you? Gimme a reason..." Annell pressed the barrel of the .45 hard against Roxy's head as tears formed in her eyes, spilling down her wrinkled cheeks. Tear filled brown eyes gazed into the cold blue ones, it was scary. It was like the lights were on but no one was home. Not a shred of any kind of emotion present in those blue depths. Annell yanked hard on the blonde locks, pulling the older woman from her seat, as she jerked her fist forward; slamming Roxy's face into the table with a resounding THUD. Blood spurted from her nasal cavity as she cried loudly. Sobbing the older woman's hand flew as she gripped Annell's wrist.

"Please...Please Annell... " she groaned. Annell shook her head, pathetic. She had the audacity to plead with her, after everything she'd done… The lives she'd destroyed. No, she wouldn't let it happen. "I didn't! Yuri didn't! I swear!" Roxy pleaded as Annell pressed the gun tighter against her temple. Yanking her viciously by her hair, Annell drug the crying woman to the sink. She put up very little fight, her head still swimming from the blow. Annell, gripped her tightly, slamming her head against the counter again for good measure, Annell grabbed a limp hand.

"Why should I believe you?" her voice was cold, as she hissed down at the semi- conscious woman who leaned heavily on the counter. The blackness closing in on her, Roxy was unable to see the impending situation, as Annell picked up the kettle. Steaming spurted from the spout as slowly she tilted it. The hot water cascaded down onto the flesh of her arm and hand, it took a few moments for her body to respond. A loud scream erupting from the older woman's chapped dry lips. The smell of burning flesh filled the small kitchenette, Roxy jerked her hand back, falling down on the vinyl floor, clutching it to her chest. The tanned weathered skin bubbled and blistered almost immediately, as she screamed.

"Shut the fuck up!" Annell hissed standing over the woman, grabbing a fistful of hair again. The gun pressed firmly against her forehead. She ignored the layers of flesh that literally melted off the appendage. "Did you turn rat?" she asked eerily calm.

"No…" Roxy moaned, tears streaming down her face.

"Did Yuri?"

"NO!" The woman screamed, her voice hoarse. "Please, Annell...please...Don't... kill-" Annell let go of her hair, pulling the gun back, grabbing the dirty dishtowel hanging from the oven handle; she tossed it at the crumpled woman on the floor.

"We'll see…. If I find out otherwise, I'll come back." She said calmly walking back to the table, she tucked her purse over her shoulder. 'You gonna call the cops?" she shot over her shoulder. Roxy sobbed loudly on the floor, blood running down her face, over her chin and onto her chest. She managed somehow to shake her head 'no.'

"I didn't think so..."

* * *

Annell calmly shut the door behind her; the wails from inside the house deafening. The bright morning sun accosted her eyes, as she slipped a pair of sunglasses back over her nose. The fresh, clean air smelled wonderful as opposed the stinking smell of flesh that resided in the house. Climbing into her car, she shut the door. Blinking rapidly, could she have been wrong? She had been so certain. Shoving the key into the ignition, twisting it violently. Her high heeled foot on the gas, she sped on to the main drag, she thoughts wrapped up in what had taken place moments ago. Had she made a mistake? She was not paying attention as she sped through a red light, she wasn't paying attention as a navy blue sedan followed her.

POP POP POP! Annell screamed loudly as glass shattered around her, tucking her head down quickly. She slammed her foot down on the gas pedal. Leaning over the center console, she ripped open the glove compartment. Her finger fumbling for her gun, her eyes barely able to see over the wheel. She could see it, her finger tips grazed the cool metal. Just a little bit more... She reached. The wheel jerked violently, as Annell's head slammed against the steering wheel, and everything when black. The last thing she was aware of was the feeling of falling, as the small car tumbled.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter Ten: Creep_  
_" I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control. I want a perfect body. I want a perfect soul." -Radiohead  
_

* * *

It felt like she was floating; some kind of strange inky blackness all around her. Her body felt strange, she didn't really hurt. It was more like a strange tingle that filled her to the very depths. Like her whole body had somehow fallen asleep. She tried to open her eyes, but they were heavy and refused to co-operate. The distant sound of sirens filled her ears, she focused on opening her eyes. Forcing her eyes to open; she took in her surroundings, glass had shattered everywhere her body was bloody. Pieces of glass embedded in the flesh of her arms, and chest. Green, damp leafery poked through the busted windows, and the smell of gasoline filled the air. Her eyes were heavy. She was tired, very tired. So she closed her eyes again, going back into the inky darkness.

* * *

Simon slammed his palm flat against the hospital door, with a little more force than nessacery the swinging door flew open, nearly smacking some poor nurse in the face. Narrowing his eyes at the pretty young thing, he brushed past her. He'd just gotten off the phone with Jax. This was bad; very bad. He had no idea who could've done this. None. The grunts were out pounding some pavement; trying to find some answers. Demetri was at the the local repair shop; scoping out the damage. He said the car was totaled. His green eyes scanned the sterile corridor. He hated fucking hospitals. They were so creepy, so clean. The smell of peroxide and other chemicals filling his nose, the stark whiteness of everything hurt his eyes. The placard that read '419 'finally caught his attention.

Beep….beep….beep…

The slow subtle sounds of the heart monitor filled his ears. As he slipped in the room. There she was; she looked so small. In the center on that bed, with the railings up. The starchy white linens pulled up to her chin. Her face was swollen and bruised, the pale skin marred with cuts when glass had embed itself in her flesh. Her breathing was slow and steady, she didn't have one of those tubes down her throat. That had to be a good sign, and while it looked like the nurses had cleaned up most of her cuts, leaving angry looking wounds he couldn't help but think...why didn't she just listen to him? For once, why didn't she leave her 'Little Miss Boss' routine at the door and follow protocol? He could understand she had a lot to prove, in such a misogynistic world as theirs, he understood her need to be independent. Her need to prove to her men, especially the older ones, the ones who had worked for Vladimir that she was capable for doing what needed to be done, no matter what it entailed. Hell that she could stomach what some of them even couldn't. That ultimately, she didn't need them to protect her, but it was going to get her killed. There was no shame in it; even Vladimir had a protection detail but Annell was a stubborn woman. A suborn woman with a quick temper; not a good combination.

"Excuse me, sir?" the same blonde little nurse from the hall stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. "You can't be in here…family only."

"I am her family." Simon crossed his large muscled arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed as he sneered. "I'm her brother." The nurse rose a skeptical eyebrow, he was at least twenty years older than the woman in the bed. Shrugging, she backed out. It wasn't her problem.

* * *

Simon stood at the coffee machine fumbling with a wrinkled single; trying to force the machine to accept his money. After it spit the bill out for the fifth time, he cursed and slammed his palm against it. Earning looks from the other people that sat in the large waiting room.  
"Hey man." A somewhat familiar Scottish brogue said behind him, a hand clapping down on his shoulder.

"Hey, "he turned, stuffing the wrinkled bill back into the pocket of his faded jeans. "Thanks for coming out." He eyed Chibs as Tig stood next to the Scotsman. "Both of you; I really appreciate it. "

"What the hell happened?" Tig asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Annell had an accident…." Craning a finger for the two Sons to follow him, he led them down the long, nearly deserted corridor. "Some asshole tried to take her out; three shots from what Demetri's telling me. Ran her off the road, she flipped…..If any cops come sniffing around though; it was just an accident…She's a pretty little girl she'll come up with some kind of story, bat those eyelashes of hers…It always works."

"You think it was one of Putlova's douches?" Tig asked as the men resumed their parade down the hall. Nurses raising their eyebrows at the strange man.

"I don't even fucking know…" Simon pushed Annell's door open, waving the two in. "That's why I called Jax, I need someone to play babysitter, while I go help the others piece this fucked up puzzle together." Chibs and Tig shared a look, a look that screamed:'Oh fuck no.' "Look, Annell's stubborn as a mule. She won't take this lieing down, and she is not going to want to sit in bed and twiddle her thumbs..." Simon ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes shifting to the small woman in the bed," She's fine, they're releasing her once she wakes up, but I need you to keep her in the fucking house, do not let her leave, they might try again when word gets out." Chibs nodded, when word got out she was alive whoever did this probably would try again. "and for fucks sake; please, do not let her sweet talk you into seeing things her way." Tig snorted, as Simon's gaze fell directly on the tall blue eyed man. "I'm fucking serious. She's good at that, real good."

"Pussy doesn't pull one over on me like that." Tig sneered, as Chibs rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses.

* * *

As Annell began to come around from the drug-induced paradise she'd been in, She slowly began to become aware of her surroundings. Like the throbbing pain in her head, the general soreness of her body and the two very male voices that seemed close yet far away. The gentle hum of the television made them hard to understand at first, but as she woke up they became clearer.

"This is bullshit, man." A familiar voice that she couldn't place ranted. "It's fucking Friday, I've got better things to be doing, why does this always happen to me?"

"I'm here too, brother. You think I wouldn't rather be nailin' some hot pussy right now?" She knew that Scottish brogue anywhere, of course she only knew one person with a Scottish accent. So there weren't many options. The heavy echo of boots filled the room, as Tig, she assumed paced.

"You think she's wearing panties?" the foot falls stopped abruptly.

"Tiggy..."Chibs sighed.

"No, they strip 'em down on intake… Come on, brother. It's just a peek."

"Tig."

"No really, brother. It's not like it's hurtin' her or anything…" There a few more heavy foot falls, as she could feel the sheet at the foot of the bed being lifted, cool air licking at her bare legs. A loud booming laugh following. Swallowing hard, she cleared her throat. Trying to find her voice.

"If you lift that sheet anymore, I'll cut out your spleen and feed it to you." Her voice was hoarse and gritty, and as her eyes flew open she was met by the light blue gaze at the foot of the bed. Head down; he gazed up at her through his lashes, sheet still clutched in two heavily ringed hands.

"Good morning, beautiful. I was just, you know, making sure everything was in working order..." he smiled sheepishly, looking very much like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. She didn't miss the loud bark of a laugh from the far corner of the room.

"I know what you were 'checking on'." Annell rolled her eyes, struggling to push herself up against the pillows. That stupid IV in her arm making things difficult.

"How ya' feelin', sweetheart?" Chibs pushed himself up from the uncomfortable vinyl hospital chair, making his way to her bedside. Sliding his sunglasses up into his hairline, he looked the battered woman over. She looked like absolute shit.

"Like I got shot at, and flipped my car. Oh, how's my car?"Annell struggled, finally giving in she allowed the large Scotsman to hoist her up by her armpits. Offering a begrudging 'thanks'.

"No idea, love." God that damn IV really itched. Fuck this. She was fine, sore but fine. Annell small left hand reached across peeling back the medical tape. "Whoa, whoa what're ya doin?" Chibs grabbed her much smaller hand in his.

"Getting the hell outta here." Annell groaned, pulling her hand back. She removed the heart moniter from her finger tip, throwing it on the floor. A loud squeal comeing from the machine, as she yanked the IV from her arm. Blood oozed down her pale skin from the site. She had better things to do than lay here in this stupid bed. Better things; like finding whoever had done this. Finding them and peeling the flesh from their face. Slowly. Chibs rather than argue; helped her as she threw her legs over the side of the hospital bed, leaning heavily on the older man, she only came up to his shoulder. "Wh..oa…" she moaned, as the room began to spin bit.

"Maybe you should sit that ass of yours down." Tig offered his commentary, eyeing the slit down the back of her hospital gown.

"Maybe you stop looking at me like I'm a piece of meat and I don't know, help me?" She muttered crossly, untangling herself from the large Scotsman, she stumbled over to the white sterile counter throwing open drawer half hazardly. Rummaging through them, with little thought or care for the fact that her ass hung out of the gown and both men, now openly ogled. "Where are my clothes?" she mumbled, mainly to herself. "Where's Simon, Demetri…anybody." The loud harsh squeal from the monitor continued, only getting louder and more grating.

"Out. "Tig shrugged simply. "Trying to figure out what shit you stirred up. Put that piece of shit back on," Tig held out the heart monitor.

"No, just fucking unplug it." She continued to ransack the hospital room, in search of clothes of some kind any kind. Chibs shot Tig a look out of the corner of his eye, and shook his head.

"They're trying to piece together who pulled this shit." At that moment the same poor young nurse decided to make her entrance, a scowl etched in her face and low groan as she eyed the irate looking young woman.

"Miss... you can't."

"Where are my clothes?" Annell huffed, straightening herself. She rose to her full height, which wasn't much and fixed to nurse with a scowl.

"You haven't be-"

"I'm leaving; where are my clothes?" She said confidently, throwing open the top cabinets above the sink.

"Ma'am."

"Where are my fucking clothes!" The nurse visibly recoiled, her eyes wide and her mouth open.  
"Close your mouth or I'll rip out your tongue and strangle you with it." Annell scowled, as Tig and Chibs both exchanged wide eyed looks at the sudden break in her calm demeanor. Tig even bit back a laugh at the comment. Looking thoroughly insulted and horrified the nurse backed out of the room. _"I'm getting Doctor Casper's"_

"You do that."

* * *

Annell was thoroughly annoyed, pissed off , irate. Any adjective she could think of described her right now. She'd left the hospital, the two large bikers on her tail, after getting fed up with waiting. No clothes to speak of, she still didn't know where they were. Probably ruined. She summoned every ounce of gusto she had, and waltzed out the door in a pair of black pumps and a hospital gown, her left hand gripping the back. But that wasn't the end of her fabulously shitty day, oh no. It wasn't until she watched the two straddle their large 'death traps' that it dawned on her. Oh fuck Simon. Fuck Simon, and his mother, his cousins and every member of his goddamn family. She watched in slow motion horror as Tig tossed her a helmet and with one of his more creepy smiles patted the seat behind him.

"Come on, doll. I don't bite...much.' and that brought her to now, laying in bed like a helpless little twit. While everyone else was out doing what needed to be done, what she _should_ be doing. She was confined to her bed, like some invalid. The men downstairs raiding her fridge. Protection detail, fuck me.

"You need anything?!" Tig hollered up the stairs. Rolling her eyes, she couldn't even get out of bed to get her own shit? Chibs swore to her though that if she didn't 'play by the rules' he'd drop her ass right back off at the hospital.

"How about a smoke and a beer?" Sitting up in her bed, the coverlet pooling around her waist as she smoothed down her hair. She watched with a bit of fascination as Tig strode into her bedroom with little ceremony, ripping to top off her beer, he held it out to her. His light blue eyes scanning her room, suspiciously. It was clean, too clean. It made him uncomfortable. The stark white walls, were spotless. The pale pine colored hardwood was a little too pristine. It looked like no one even lived here. But someone did, and she had a great ass and an even better face. Sitting up in bed, Tig shook his head looking at the young woman. Her pretty face was ruined, the flesh marred with angry looking gashes. Her cheekbones and eye sockets so swollen that if he'd didn't know better, he wouldn't have recognized her. Shit. What a shame, it was a great face.

"Thanks, "she muttered taking the offered bottle as she scooted up against the headboard. Reaching into his cut, Tig pulled out a pack of cigarettes. With his large ringed fingers; he pulled two. Placing one between his lips, he held out the other. "So how bad is it?" Annell finally asked. She was not sure she actually wanted to know to answer to that question.

"How bads what, doll?" Tig, much to her surprise lit her cigarette, and then took a seat on her bed. Sitting on the edge the strange man faced her, and stretched out his long legs. Annell took a deep drag off her cigarette, a smirk creeping onto her face. She winced as her swollen flesh stretched painfully.  
"My face."

"Oh, it's not that bad. " Tig leaned back against her footboard, exhaling a cloud of smoke from his lips. As he eyed the hot little piece across from him. "Okay; it's pretty fuckin' bad. How's it feel?"

"Like shit…I'm bored. Can I come downstairs?" She scowled, her face twisted into snarl as the words left her mouth. She was asking permission in her own goddamn house.

"Chibs says your no allowed outta bed."

"I can lay on the couch."

"You can rest in bed."

"Or I can rest AND watch TV, AND not be dieing a slow and painful death from boredom."

Tig scooped the small woman up, carrying her down the stairs. She was tiny and light, it was relatively easy. She had her arms wrapped tightly around Tigs neck as her head rested lightly against his shoulder. He smelled nice, like cigarettes, gasoline and outdoors. In her mind, it didn't sound like an appealing combination but it was. Her head was swimming. As he laid her down on the couch; his rough hands slid across the exposed skin of her thigh, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Where's Chibs?" Annell asked, as she sat up on the couch. Stuffing a few throw pillows behind her, and grabbing the remote off the arm of the couch.

"He had an errand, mind your own business, doll. Besides, it's not like I'm gonna rape you or anything.." Annell quirked an eyebrow as Tig sat down at the end of her couch by her feet. A beer in his hand, and a cigarette dangling from his lips. She gaped. What an odd thing to say…. "What!?"


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Eleven: Sex Machine_  
_"Start her motor; rev her up slowly and pull the line. Are you ready, you wanna play? Put your petal to her metal, and she'll blow you away." -Dope_

* * *

Annell store at the television; her gaze every so often drifting. Using her peripheral she would stare at the man perched on the end of her sofa. From his wild hair, his profile, his body. Nothing escaped her gaze. He seemed ready to pounce, on edge. Pounce on what? She wasn't sure. The loud slam, of the back door made them both jump. She watched as he jumped to his feet, pulling a gun from his pants. Throwing the small afghan off her body, a small hand reached under the couch, her fingers wrapping themselves around the cool metal of a small '_Saturday Night Special.'_

"What're you doing?" he threw her a nasty look over his shoulder; peering around the doorframe. Annell, popped a hip and rolled her eyes, pushing past him. She lowered the gun as she glared at the figure that stood in her kitchen; a very pissed off Nikolai glowered at the small woman. His steely eyes briefly flickering to Tig, standing behind, hovering over the woman.

"What did you do?!" Nikolai fumed. His rage only fueled, when Annell met his gaze with a facetiously confused look. He ignored the gashes that littered that pretty pale skin. He had decided long ago, that he didn't give a shit.

"I have no ide-" Annell started, but was cut off as Nikolai stalked up, grabbing her by her small biceps. She yelped. Giving her a hard shake.

"The fuck you don't!" Nikolai growled as the large biker inserted himself between the pair. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't fucking touch her." Tig stood in front of her, her eyes wide a bit of a smirk found its way onto her busted lips.

"This doesn't concern you." Nikolai growled, moving forward his hand shot out to grab at the smaller woman. As quickly as it had happened; she wasn't quite sure what had exactly happened. All she knew was that, she blinked, and Nikolai was sprawled on the floor, the barrel of a gun pressed tightly against his temple. "This is ludacris." Nikolai laughed manically. "She isn't what you think she is… She's the devil." He spat, his hard eyes landing on his former lover. Annell crossed her arms, a scowl making its way to her face. Tig's head turned to meet the steady blue, unflinching gaze of Annell, as she laid a hand on his bare forearm. Giving it a squeeze, she smiled.

"I've got this. Thank you." She was sincere in her thanks. Tucking her hair behind her ear, gun gripped tightly in her hand. She squatted down, waving the gun to empathize her point. "Are you gonna make me use this?" she asked.  
"Nyet."Nikolai sneered.

"I guessing, you're upset about..I don't know. Roxy?" She sighed heavily. She was so goddamn sore. Her knees cracked in protest as she stood, wobbling a bit. She smiled as a large calloused hand wrapped itself around her bicep.  
"Hey, you okay?" Tig mumbled; his head bent down so that he mumbled into her hair. She shivered. Looking over her shoulder, she offered a weak smirk.

"Fine," but that didn't stop the older, larger man from steering his companion to the table, pulling out a black leather accent chair and easing her into it. Something wasn't right, and Annell knew it. Nikolai had been acting…off lately. Quick to temper and surly, there was something going on. Something she didn't know, and she hated not knowing. As Tig took a step back, her thin battered fingers gripped a leather covered wrist. "Sit with me?" Her eyes fixed of Nikolai; she heard a chair scrap against the tile as Tig took the chair beside her. Nikoali stood, quickly brushing off his dress slacks, his eyes narrowed.

"She is family. You broke trust, you broke a bond today. You broke Code." Nikolai shook his head, graying overgrown locks falling in his face. If she didn't hurt so much she would have beat the shit out of him, if she could have been sure she wouldn't fall on her ass, she would have gotten in his face.

"She had an accident in the kitchen-happens all the time." Annell, reasoned, waving a hand flippantly. Her head turning to look at Tig. "People have _accidents_ all the damn time."

"That they do..." Tig agreed, his tone held a bit a malice in it and a deeply sinister edge.

"Nikolai…get out of my house.'

Annell watched as the door slammed behind him. She winced at the loud SLAM! As it shut. Sighing heavily, she leaned her head down into her palms. She let go of a breath, she hadn't realized she'd been holding. This was ridiculous; everything was falling apart, tearing at the seams. She had to fix it, but she didn't know how. She done the right thing. She was sure of it…right? Roxy or Yuri had to be the snitch, there was no one else. She sent her message loud and strong, regardless of the outcome. The two were they coincidence, they had to be.

"You wanna tell me what the hell he was talking about, doll?" Tig interrupted her troubled musings. Hovering over the diminutive woman; he leaned down at her, palms flat against the cool granite table top, elbow locked as he leered at her.

"Business, I had a problem I dealt with it. Don't worry yourself too much, it has nothing to do with the club." She leaned back in her chair casually. Annell met his gaze with an equally steady one. He scared her. Made her uncomfortable in the worst ways, and she knew why. Because he was dangerous, impulsive, ruthless and sexy. The harsh angular features of his face, his smell, the way he constantly leered at her. It all should have sent her running for the hills screaming. He was old enough to be her father she'd guessed. Oh God, she was so fucked up.

"Everything you do now affects the Club, one way or another. So you going to tell me or am I gonna have to beat it outta ya?" Annell quirked an eyebrow, her features twisting into a smile. She leaned her head back against the chair, tilting her head up to gaze up in to the haunting light blue eyes that glowered down at her.

"I may or may not have beat a woman within an inch of her life, and scalded her with boiling water." She stated matter of factly, unflinching, a hint of boredom lacing her words. Tig stared down at her for a moment, what the fuck was wrong with her? There should've been remorse, crying, something…But the bitch was bored. He was speechless, he was hard. She was _something._ "I thought she was a rat..."

"You thought?" he breathed.

"I did at the time…Now, I'm not so sure.' She shrugged. Fuck, Tig shook his head, his hand coming down to adjust his rock hard cock. She couldn't go around beating the shit out of people on a whim. But God; that was fucking hot. He would have paid to watch, paid good money. Standing, she pushed the chair behind her out, moving to get out from between the table and the chair.

"Where do you think you're goin', Doll?" his large ringed fingers snaked around the flesh of her wrist. His grip was hard, bruising. He watched her with that predatory gaze as she store up at him, her blue doll like eyes wide, and blinking rapidly. Taking her bottom lip, she chewed at it. He couldn't stand it anymore. Fuck what Jax said, he'd only do it once, get it out of his system. He pulled her by her wrist hard against his chest; her eyes still wide as he crushed his lips against hers. She gasped, as his tongue snaked into her mouth; everything about his kiss was harsh and demanding. There was nothing sweet or slow. He plundered her mouth, she was sweet and yet not. She tasted of cigarettes and beer, and as she met his kiss with a furious kiss of her own, her own tongue battling with his, he groaned. A low guttural groan, as he pressed his rock hard cock into her belly. His hands pawed at her face, as they dueled, his fingers tangling in the soft sweet smelling hair, giving it a hard pull at the base of her skull. She moaned.

It felt like fire coursing through her veins, every nerve tingled as his calloused hands slithered down her body. Grabbing a handful of her ass, he lifted her roughly sitting her on the table as he gripped her knees, forcing them apart. He moved between them, his mouth, his lips sliding along her angular jawline, down to the crook of her neck. Annell moaned, she whimpered wantonly her hands tangling themselves in his dark curly hair. She was running on impulse, she didn't know what to do with her hands. Nikolai had never allowed her to touch him when the fucked.

"Mary, mother a' Christ!" The unmistakable Scottish brogue of Chibs filled the room.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Twelve: Sin_  
_"It comes down to this. Your kiss. Your fist, and your strain. It get's under my skin. Within. Take in the extent of my sin."- Nine Inch Nails  
_

* * *

Chibs had been pissed, and Annell wasn't quite sure why. He paced her kitchen muttering in what she was assuming was Gaelic. He had pulled a very sheepish Tig outside, against her better judgment she listened from the couch, catching brief snippets: _"you don't shit where you eat. _' Tig said something she really didn't catch about her ass. Chibs ranted about something Jax had said. Of fuck Jax! That little cock-blocker. As quickly as it had started they waltzed back in, Chib's arm lazily hung around Tig's shoulder. '_Come on, time ta' go, lassie.' _Annell quirked an eyebrow. Chib's had sauntered over, checking the wounds on her face, his thumb brushing a particularly nasty, angry one on her cheek as she winced. Chib's briefly explained that he and Tig were needed at the clubhouse, and that Simon would be picking her up. Tig roughly grasped her arm under the armpit, helping her up the stairs. He watched her like a hawk as she collected a change of clothes, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She looked at Tig, casually strewn across her bed. It was a good look.

"I'm going to change... If I catch you in my panty drawer, I'll bite your fingers off at the knuckle."

* * *

Annell occasionally looked over the top of her laptop; the loud moans that came from the pool table in the clubhouse were distracting. She didn't mind the public displays; it was more the noise that was grating. But she also was just irritable. Being stuck in Charming wasn't exactly her idea of a goodtime, crunching numbers and being laid up on this stupid couch while they all partied. She watched over the lid of her laptop as a bleach blonde 'crow eater' worked the pole in the middle of the clubhouse, she wasn't exactly what Annell would consider to be something worth falling all over yourself for, but if working with so many men had taught her it was: pussy is pussy. ´" _I could always just put a paper bag over her head." _Demetri had once said about a girl she had brought in from a small Ukrainian village. Demetri had apparently needed a blow job...now, and could not wait for a prettier girl. Hell, Roxy was a perfect example. Simon pushed through the crowd, looking for his boss, his 'sister.' He was pissed. Simon and the others had officially spent five hours pounding pavement; talking to locals, and threatening smaller groups. It wasn't until Sheriff Cole pulled Demetri aside informing him that Roxy had been found past out in her home, severely beaten and covered in third degree burns. Sheriff Cole had known that Yuri had been sent back to Ukraine, and thought that the family 'should know'. Simon groaned. He had more on his plate now than he cared to admit. He didn't even know where to start anymore. No word on who could've shot at Annell but the more he dug the more and more he became convinced it was some of Putlova's men trying to prove the size of their dick. Which in itself could be a good thing; simply because they wouldn't try again. He didn't think. Simon let out a bark of laughter as Annell sat on the couch, her laptop on her lap typing away, as Juice and a croweater on his lap took up most of the sofa, she had crammed herself against the arm, laptop crooked on her lap, as she jabbed a hard elbow as the brunette woman pressed up against Annell. Grabbing a rolled cigarette from the dingy coffee table she lit it. Simon smirked. He watched with a smug sense of enjoyment; she should know better than to smoke someone else's 'cigarette'. She took a hard drag, follow by a loud booming cough and sputtering.

'How are you feeling?" Simon sauntered over, a smile on his lips. Snapping her laptop shut, she looked over the rim of her glasses, still coughing.

"What the FUCK was that?!" She choked, taking another drag she sputtered. Catching Juices attention, the croweater on his lap tossed Annell a nasty glare. "Sorry, didn't mean to ruin the _mood._" She croaked. Taking the rolled cigarette, Simon took a small drag, an appreciative smile on his lips.

"That, my dear, is reefer." Simon held back a laugh, as a look of shock and horror covered Annell's face. Standing, she brushed off her tight fitting jeans. Tossing the smirking Simon a nasty glare.

"I don't do-"

"You just did." Annell huffed, stomping a foot. "If you tell anyone about th-"she stopped mid-sentence. A small tingle filling her up from her toes to the top of her head. It felt...good. Plopping back down on the couch, she sighed. Her head in her hands. She'd just broken her own personal rules. She didn't do drugs. She never had. She felt Simon and now Juice's eyes searing into her flesh. They were staring at her. Why were they staring at her? She turned to look at Juice only to see him canoodling with his little tart. Maybe they weren't staring, but it sure as hell felt like they were. Shaking the thought from her mind, she store across the room as a blonde busty scantily clad woman literally wrapped herself around Tig. She grimaced. Fuck, well that was just…well, fuck. She felt something touch her arm. She squealed, generally scared out of her mind. She looked down at the heavily ringed hand that rested on her bicep. She couldn't figure out whom said hand belonged to, her eyes followed the arm, finally landing on a haunting set of icy blue eyes. Ah, so that was who the hand belonged to.

"Stop squirming. You look like you're crawling outta your skin." Tig whispered against her ear. His breath smelling of whiskey and cigarette. Every little touch sent her spinning. She couldn't concentrate. Let alone deal with this, settling she eyed the blonde across the clubhouse with narrowed eyes and a snarl. "Why ya' looking at her like that, she's a lovely young lady..' Tig chuckled in her ear.

"Oh, I just like to think of ways to kill people who irritate me. You know, boiling them in oil, cannibalism, throwing them off high buildings, locking them in a room with poisonous snakes. That sort of thing. "She smiled wryly. Simon smiled. She didn't like that. Smiles were bad, and creepy at this moment. Something happened, she didn't know how to describe it. Grabbing Tig's arm, she pulled herself up, and as she pushed her way through the crowd of people. The literal horde, they felt like they were closing in on her. The two men exchanged glances. Tig smirked, shaking his head slowly. "They're trying to kill me…'

Annell fought with the door, pushing her way out of the clubhouse. The fresh warm night air felt amazing, it was wonderful. Glancing up at the stars she smiled. Laying down on the dirty pavement outside, she sighed. They're so pretty… She store. How'd they get up there?

"Nel, you okay baby?" Simon pushed out the door. With a shake of his head he groaned. "What're you doing?" Tig pushed out, staring at the stoned woman on the ground. Who merely held up a finger and shushed the pair.  
Her mouth was dry, she needed water. Opening and closing her mouth a few times, she drug her tongue over her dry lips.  
"Water. I need water. My mouth is disgusting. You bikers boys have water at the bar right? Right. You want some water. I'll get you water." It took every effort to push off the pavement. As she pushed past the two men again, they sighed in unison. The sounds of the clubhouse assaulted her eardrums; the music, the talking, laughing and sounds of sex. She sighed.

"Hey, hey.' Juice grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry, I thought..I thought you knew...are you okay?" he sputtered.

"Oh, I'm _so _good, Juice...Juicey. I don't know you that well...but did I ever tell you: that you tattoos.' She held her hands up, rubbing her finger tips on either side of her scalp. Where Juice's tattoos were present. "Are really cool. They're fabulous, like they make the ladies get all tangled up in their underwear… Damn it! I still need water." She turned on her heel, only to be seized up by a set of lean but muscled arms, and pulled against a leather clad chest.

"Where you going, doll?" Tig held her tightly.

"Water..."

"I think we've had enough of this for one night, doll." Tig smirked. He liked her like this, she was...amusing, but she also was a prideful bitch, who had amused him enough for the night. She'd be pissed in the morning, and then. Well, then he'd never get to hit it. Narrowing his eyes at Juice he pointed a finger at the man. "Later, retard. Later." Dragging her to the door, by her wrist, she followed quietly at dumbly. She didn't protest as he sat her on the back of his bike, or as he roughly jammed the helmet on her head.

"Hey, I got it. I can-"Simon burst out the door, huffing and puffing.

"I got her, man. She's fine. " Tig climbed in front of her, strapping on his own helmet.

"He's got me." Annell smirked, as Tig started the engine, and the motorcycle roared to life beneath them. The ride was amazing. The wind in her face as she pressed it against his back, her arms wound tightly around his middle. It was heaven, but her heaven was slowly slipping away. The tingling barely there anymore, and as he pulled into the drive way it was gone. The embarrassment setting in. Sliding off the back, she smirked crooking a finger; he followed. Fumbling with her keys as she opened the front door. She finally held it open; waving him inside. Before the door even shut he was on her.

Slamming the small woman against the door, his mouth viciously claimed hers, his lips, his tongue scouring every crevice of her mouth. She moaned, as her hands tangled themselves in his hair, as his drug his lips down the column of her neck, his teeth viciously sinking into the tender supple flesh but her neck and shoulder. He bit down hard, until the metallic but sweet taste of her blood coated his mouth. She gasped, her back arching into him. He ground himself into her, and she couldn't take it.

"Take me upstairs." She hissed. Burying her face in his chest. Tig lifted her, his hands holding her ass firmly as she wrapped her legs around him. He continued his assault as he carried her to the bedroom, her soft whimpering driving him insane. She lost her flip flops on the stairs. Her shirt was ripped off in the hallway. Slamming her bedroom door open, he tossed her on the bed, not bothering to turn the light on. She bit her lip, her body burning as he shrugged out of his cut. Gathering up her courage, she pounced.  
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she crushed her lips against his, his goatee scrapping her already tender flesh. Her hands roamed over his chest, as she ripped the material open, buttons flying, they clinked against the hardwood with a chorus of little pings. His rough hands slid over her breasts, as he pushed her back against the bed, his mouth lowered as he ferociously kissed licked at bit them. She writhed beneath him. Gasping and panting.

"If you keep that up, I'm gonna cum," she cried out hoarsely. Tig smirked wickedly from the valley between her breasts. Kicking off his pants, he fished out a condom. Slipping it on, he thrust into her roughly. Annell cried out, her back arched, his hands on her breast in an instant. Roughly squeezing, he pulled out, before slamming back in. God, she was tight. Setting a hard, fast pace he pounded in and out. As she cried out, her nails sinking into his back as she clawed him, bucking her hips. His hand drifted between her legs, finding the little bundle of nerves, he rubbed fast small circles. He wasn't sure why. He normally didn't care if they got off or not. Keeping his pace, he rubbed her. As her face contorted, and she bit her lip. She gasped beneath him.

"Jesus mother fuc- Christ!" She screamed, as her hips bucked and her pussy clenched. Her body jerked and stars exploded in front of her eyes.

"Ahh.. Fuck..." he grunted, his own eyes closed as his thrusts became erratic, her walls clenching around him as he came with a jerk and a "Fuck." his angular features relaxing and collapsed on top of the small woman beneath him.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter Thirteen: Beautiful More So_

_" I gotta know, does he call you monkey? I gotta know does he nibble at your hip-bone? Does he call you beautiful?" -Spencer Bell_

* * *

Juan Ramirez paged through a manilla folder, thumbing through some black and white surveillance photos. Annell Propkovic at the grocery store; at the local sheriff's department, and her office. Nothing of use. "Damn it!" he hissed, tossing the folder on his already cluttered desk. After four years he was tired, exhausted actually. He'd come on to this case a rookie. A push against organized crime, weed them out one by one. He'd come so close to nailing that old man, Vladimir's balls to to wall. So close, and when Annell rose up, well, he thought it would be easy. Easy, ha. Nikolai had been an asset to the case, that was certain, but she was hard too pin down. Everything she did was as if had never happened. She left no witnesses, no trails nothing. Everything so far...hearsay.

"Sir, you said you needed to see me?" Robert, a fair-skinned, freckled twenty-four year old, with ginger colored hair said nasally.

"I want the surveillance on Ms. Propkovic stepped up a notch." Juan sighed, taking a seat behind his desk. he dropped his head to his hands; messaging his temples. She was going to make his hair go grey. "We have to catch her in something...something she can't wiggle her way out of."

* * *

Nikolai Romanov sat in the dark abandoned playground. The wee early hours of the morning had painted the sky an eerie grey, and the morning dampness hung in the air, kissing his face. Looking to the mulched ground beneath the swing he sat on, he groaned. A half a pack of cigarettes worth of butts littered the ground beneath his feet. He thought, looking at the chrome watch on his wrist. He'd been here for hours.  
Annell. Annell was in his head. He couldn't stand it, couldn't stand that no matter what she wouldn't leave him in peace. She was always there, in the back of his mind. Teasing him, taunting him with those cold, emotionless eyes and that husky voice.

He shook his head, lighting another cigarette. Sinking his feet into the mulch, he pushed a bit. Giving himself a tiny swing. He was doing what he had to do. There was no way around this, he knew that. Knew that when she was only seventeen. A year. A year after he started...being with her he turned rat. She was beautiful and smart, funny. He sighed, there were at one time genuine feelings there. But he squashed them , and squashed them quickly like a dangerous insect. Feelings for Annell would do no one any good, least of of all him. No, he needed her gone. He needed her out of the way_. _Out of _his _way

* * *

The bright early morning sunlight spilt through the blinds, the unforgiving beams of light shone across the cream walls, the light hardwood, and the two bodies tangled up in the bed. Lightly snoring, Annell laid on her chest. Her head to the side as a sheet coiled itself around her leg and torso in a twisted mess. Tig laid next to her, a much louder rumble, on his side a heavy, limp ringed hand was laying lightly on her lower back. Annell jerked awake, lifting her head from the mattress tiredly. Her long dark hair was tangled and messy, and she was _sore_ but the the best most satisfied way imaginable. Stretching her limbs, curling and pointing her toes, she groaned. Turning onto her back, she let her head fall to the way side, staring at the man beside her. The bright streams of light that filtered through the blinds, played on the plans of his face. His harsh angular features softened from sleep, lips slightly parted. Her gaze and finger tips went to the crop of dark grayish chest hair, lightly she ran her fingers over the curls. Oh, this was a mistake. What the fuck had she done?

Sighing , she pushed herself up on elbow. Stelthily; she wiggled out from under the arm draped over her back. Slipping onto the floor, she quickly padded into the adjoining bathroom. Her fingers gripping the chrome fixtures she watched the water spurt from the shower head. '_You don't shit where you eat.'_ She could hear Chibs and George both. Two times in th last three months she'd heard that, maybe there was some truth to it. Stepping into the shower the hot water soothed her tired acheing muscles as it cascaded down her body. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't...amazing. More than amazing, it could easily have been the best sex she'd ever had. Granted, it wasn't like her life was brimming with sexual excitement. Spitting out some water that had some how seeped into her mouth, she groaned. She couldn't think about sex anymore, there was a man mere feet away, an undeniably sexy man, and her body was begging for a repeat performance. No, she had too many things that needed immediate attention. That just couldn't wait, and Tig, well she'd be back before he even knew she was gone.

Tig Trager woke slowly, the sounds of A/C being pumped through the vents of the house were the only audible thing. It was to quiet. Snaking an arm out to pull Annell to him, all he found was a cool empty bed beside him. What the fuck? He sat up, his eyes scanning the bedroom. There were no signs of any sort of life, she was gone, and by the coolness of the sheet beside him. She'd been gone for awhile. Ho-ly shit. She'd chucked him...she'd fucked and chucked him...fucking A. Sure, it hadn't been the best fuck he'd ever had, but what she seemed to lack in experience, she more than made up for with enthusiasm. Tig slithered out of her bed, tossing the rumpled sheets and comforter on the feet of the bed. That fucking little bitch, he did the chucking, he didn't GET chucked. It didn't work that way. I t wasn't until he padded into he bathroom to take piss. That a pastel yellow lined piece of paper, was taped to the wall above the toilet caught his attention.

_'Tig,_

_If you're reading this : I assume I didn't make it home before you woke up. Sorry. I had a few business things I had to take care of. I made coffee in the kitchen, help yourself. There's all sorts of stuff, make yourself at home. I'll make it back soon._

_-Annell'_

Oh, that sneaky little gash. You'd think she would have learned her lesson, it would seem not. '_ Make yourself at home. _Tig's eyes drifted back into the bedroom, as he flushed the toilet. '_ Make yourself at home...' _his eyes drifted back to the girlish, loopy cursive. Eyeing the light wood colored dresser with a large three paneled mirror on top. He shrugged, might as well. Naked as the day he was born, he walked down the stairs. Sure enough, the glorious smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the lower level of the house. Opening and closing cabinets, until he found the coffee cups. Pouring himself a cup, he smirked.

"Now... about those panties.." he chuckled, climbing the stairs back up to the bedroom.

* * *

Annell sat at her desk, her fingers dancing over the keyboard of her desktop. Reaching for her...fourth cup of coffee, she never tore her eyes from the screen. The restaurant was thriving, the dry cleaners was flailing;but the brothel..well, the numbers they were fantastic. Of course from the outside, to the eye, the brothel was nothing more than a strip club. With a pen dangling from her lips and a sheet of paper, she punched at a calculator with her finger tip. She didn't dare ever type anything about the brothel on her computer. She needed thirty-five thousand dollars for the guns coming in from Moscow tomorrow. Brow furrowed as she leaned across the desk, grabbing a stack of papers, and shuffling through them. Her glasses slipped down her nose, as her blue eyes darted from side to side, skimming over the page. Briefly, her eyes glanced at her heavy oak door, as knuckles rapped on it from the other side.  
"Come in." She called, her eyes peering over the top of her glasses. She was actually in quite a good mood today, despite her doubt about whether she'd made a bad decision. She had to say, she some how felt lighter and at ease. It was amazing what a good lay could do for your mood.

"Hey," a light haired grunt peeked through the door. No older than twenty he smiled at her shyly, brushing some of the mousy brown, shaggy hair from his eyes. "I umm, George said...here." he stuttered nervously, finally with a jittery huff, he laid a brown paper bag on her desk. "Here." Annell quirked an eyebrow, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

"Care to tell me what that is, exactly?" She asked. Her thin fingers tugged the glasses from her nose, tossing them on the desk. She leaned back in her desk chair, crossing her knees as she bounced a shapely calf.

"I-..I don't know." Annell smiled. She propped her chin up on her fist, her elbow firmly planted on the arm of her chair. She flashed a very shark-like smile, and waved the boy off with her hand. "Fine..go." Finger tips splayed across her cheek, she waited and watched as the door shut. A small chuckle passing her lips. Of course she knew what was in the bag! She loved messing with that kid, his name escaped her. Oh, but he was so much fun. She had no idea why, but he was seemingly scared to death of her and she loved to feed into that. It was the sadist in her. She loved the way he fidgeted, stuttered and could never look her in the eye. Leaning over her desk, she picked up the corded black receiver, cradling it between her shoulder and her ear as her finger punched in the number.

"Hello." George voice was tired and hoarse. Why was he sleeping at eleven thirty?

"George, it's Nellie." She sighed, propping her elbow on the edge of her desk, she pressed her cheekbone against the heel of her hand. "I got the package, I'll deliver it later. Thanks for ..ummm collecting the payments while I was...out of commission."

" Please; it was nothing... " he yawned..

"Okay, I guess I let you sleep we can talk later, " she sighed, taking the receiver in her hand, she was about to drop it in the cradle when she heard: '_Hey, hey!' _being called from the speaker. Quickly pressing it back to her ear, she smiled. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said: 'are you alright?' How do you feel?"

"Ehh, I'm fine; just a little banged up. Nothing time won't fix." she sighed, her finger subconsciously brushing across the gash on her cheek.

"Do you want me to deliver it? The package?"

"No, I've got it. I'll deliver it in a little bit, I'll be heading home." she sighed, her gaze dropping to her finger nails.

"Wait a minute...what?"George sputtered.

"Oh, Simon didn't tell you? I have a baby sitter." she snicker, rolling her eyes. " One of the Sons, don't know how much longer, but he was still at the house when I left, so I'll just pass it along."

"Riiighhht." George sighed. "Why the Sons? Don't they have their own shit going on?"

"I don't know.." she sighed. "Jackson don't share much about 'Club Business' ; the brothel sure, but not M.C. stuff."

"Alright, just checking. You know I love you kid."

"Love you too, you old fart." she heard him laugh before they both hung up. Annell dropped the phone back in it's cradle, grabbing a cigarette from the crystal dish. She pressed it between her lips, lighting it. Taking a deep drag, she grabbed the bag at the end of the desk. With her hands she un-wadded the not-so-neatly crunched together paper bag, her eyes looking down at the neatly stacked, and banded money. A hundred thousand dollars, as promised. Sighing, she carefully folded the the brown paper bag into her purse.

Any hour past easily; the time flew by. With Annell crunching her numbers, pulling and replacing funds. She was exhausted. Her body hurt, and she just wanted to go home. After hours of locating the funds, she quickly and easily transferred th funds to an over shore bank account, and paying the gun runners from Moscow. Her perfect slicked back french knot, was now falling down and her face was twisted in a frustrated grimace. Biting at her bottom lip savagely.  
"Hey..." an too familiar, heavily accented voice called from the door. Her eyes gazed up over her glass, and she blew out an agitated tuft of breath.

"Nikolai..I'm in no mood." She groaned, her head falling between her hands. She rose a skeptical brow, as he held he hands up in surrender, shutting the door behind him. He closed the distance between the pair. Taking at seat across her desk, he folded his hands.

"I am not here to...stir anything, Annell. "slipping his dark sun glasses off, he tucked them into the pocket of his suit jacket. "I come to apologize.." Annell's eyebrow rose even higher, if that were possible. Okay, something was off. Nikolai never apologized. Ever. She bit back the bitter taste of distrust that filled her mouth. "I was upset about Roxy; I never thought that you ...would."

"I had my reasons." Annell snarled, her hands flickering her hair smoothing it back, as Nikolai's eyes drifted over her body.

"I know. I never should have...well, you know. It's hard for me. To see you as my leader, I am sorry that it hasn't been easy. But it's not. I still look at you and see that pretty girl." Annelll visibly recoiled, leaning back in her seat as Nikolai's harsh scowl softened. She tried not to wince as a hand slithered across the desk, his index finger tracing over the bone of her wrist.

"Jesus, Nikolai!" She wretched her hand away, as she flung herself out of the chair. Pacing the length behind her desk like some sort of caged animal. "You-" she huffed. "I mean I-" she pointed an accusatory finger before dropping it to her side and resuming her pacing.

"I know Annell, I am sorry. I have lov-"

"Don't!" she roared to life. Anger flashing in the clear blue depth of her eyes as she glowered at the seated man across from her. "Fucking do not even go there with me!"

"Annell, I do love you, you know that." Nikolai pleaded manipulativly. His steely gaze to his credit betrayed nothing. "I have always loved you, I would neve-"

"But you did." she hissed, her palms pressing hard against the wood of the desk, she leaned across. Her eyes flickering dangerously. "You fucking did. Don't play this game with me, Nikolai. You do not love me, and I do not love you. I may have thought I did. But I don't."

"Ann-"

"No, you listen and listen good. All you did was fuck me up real bad. You love me? Then think about that, all you did was ruin me. I can't function anymore in the context of a relationship... I can't... I fucking don't want to do this." Annell sighed, plopping down into her chair, she placed a cigarette between her lips and lit it, her head rearing back as she blew a cloud up to the ceiling. "It's over, not that there was ever anything to really _end."_ Nikolai sighed, his eyes boring into the woman across from him. Her face stoic, and unemotional. Her pale skin littered with angry welts, and torn up. It was a shame, she was beautiful, he could admit that. She seemed completely unaffected by his pleas though. What happened? What happened to the pretty girl, who wrapped herself around him? Who hung on his every word. Trusted him, with out a second thought. His steely gaze roamed her, from her oval face, to the slender column of her..neck. An angry purple welt, nestled in the crook of her neck caught his attention. Raised and purple, a mixture of yellow and green surrounded the wound.

"What happened to you?" Nikolai moved so fast, she didn't have time to bat him away. Grabbing her chin between his thumb and fore-finger, he tilted her neck to get a better look.

"Jesus, Nikolai get out-"

"Who did this to you? Did they-" She would never. Something had to happen, she had to have someone force them- he shook his head. She just wouldn't he was sure of that. He'd seen to that. There were times that he deliberatly jaded her, insurance. Insurance she would never want anyone else, he would never lose his influence over the young woman.

"No! Jesus Nikolai! " she roared pushing him away with her palms, as for the second time she stood. Walking over to the large picture window she peered out at the skyline. Her blue eyes staring at the many peaks,and church steeples. "Why do you assume that I didn't want it? That I didn't want to _whore around _a little...hmmm?" she whirled around, her eyes narrowed vemonously. A shaky finger pointed at the older man.

"Because you love me. I know you do. Even if you don't, you woul-"

"Well, I fucking did!" she hissed, she high heels clacking against the floor as she stalked up to the man, their chests touching. "I fucked someone else last night..." she supplied. "What do you care? We are _nothing _to each other."

"You fucked some else?!" he roared, his hands grabbed her biceps. His finger biting into the bruised flesh painfully, as he glowered down at her. His eyes flashed, he was irate.

"Yes." she said breathily. Shoving her away as if she'd burned him, Nikolai turned his back on her. His eyes starring at the desk. That little fucking _cunt._ A rage filled him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His fingers coiled around a ceramic statue of the Virgin Mother that sat on the edge of her desk.

"You fucking whore. " he voice was soft, and angry. "Did he fuck you from behind, eh? Did you let him kiss you? Did him make you cum?" He whorled around, the ceramic statue hurtled at her head, it smashed against the wall, pieces shattering in every direction.

"YES!" she screamed loudly, her small fist slamming against the wood of her desk. "I did come! Not like you ever could, you always said there was something wrong _with me!" _she smirked sadistically. "Obviously the problem wasn't me." She watched as Nikolai balled his fist. Yeah, come on hit me, you fucker. At least then she could shoot him and have this be done. Shaking his hand, he dropped it to his side.

"The problem is you... you ugly fucking bitch." Nikolai hissed as he walked to the door. "I could barely even get it up with you. Do you know why I could never look at you? " He shot over his shoulder. "because you make me ill." wrenching open the door, he disappeared down the hallway in to the small reception area. Annell's shoulders sagged as she rushed to the door, hanging off the door frame, as her finger nails bit into the wood. Her body shaking with rage.

"Well, news flash dick! It was never EVER fuckin' good with YOU!" she screamed into the reception area. The small elderly woman seated at the desk against the walls, eyes looked sideways at her boss. Biting back a snicker.

"Just go fuck another man, whore!" Called from down the corridor. She didn't even notice Tig seated in a high-backed chair, flipping through the pages of an aged 'Easy Rider.'

"I will! I'll fuck everything with a goddamned penis! Till I can't walk! Stupid dick!" She slammed her office door so hard the windows rattled. Leaving Tig and the elderly woman staring at each other. His eyes narrowed, brows knitting together as his lips slid to the side. 'What the fuck?' written all over his face.

"I suppose you go in now..." the elderly woman sighed, speaking in her heavily accented broken English.


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter Fourteen: What I've Done_

_"I'll face myself, too cross out what I've become. Erase myself, and let go of what I've done."- Linkin Park_

* * *

Annell screamed into her palms. Pacing her office like some sort of caged animal, her gaze narrowed. "Stupid fucking dick!" she screeched, her fingers coiling around the neck of a very expensive vase flinging her hands with a sideways jolt. She watched as the pieces shattered against the wall. Feeling strangely relieved, she picked up an old photo of Nikolai, Ivan and herself, flinging it against the wall. Chest heaving; her heart racing she clutched her head in her hands, fingers digging almost painfully into her skull. Her chest hurt, and burned. Tears brimming in her eyes. You are so stupid. How could you be so stupid. Idiot. You're father would be ashamed; he would disown you. He would kill you himself. Fucking asshole! She fought back the darkness that seemed to be closing in. She felt dirty and used, cheap. "_ You make me ill."_ The words stung. She had never particularly cared what Nikolai had to say about much, but some how, someway the words hurt. Violently wiping away a few stray tears that slipped down her face, she crawled over. On hands and knees, she picked up the shards of sharp glass that littered the hardwood. Thin, battered fingers gently throwing the pieces in the small waste basket under her desk. She ignored the sound of the door opening. Tig leaning against the frame, watching the young woman squatted over the floor throwing away the evidence of her temper tantrum.

"I've got it, Marina. Thank you." Her tone was and even, cold monotone. Turning on her heels, she brushed the last of the glass into the basket, brushing her palms against each other. Eyes drifting up to the doorway, her eyes widened at the tall, leather clad figure leaning against her door. "You are not Marina." she stated dumbly.

" Nope." Tig smirked, popping his 'p'. Embarrassment flooded her core, as he smirked down at her. "Missed you this morning,doll. You're supposed to stay in the house." His eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, well.." she stuttered a little. "I had some things I had to take care of..." she sighed, her knees cracking as she stood. Tig poised himself against the doorframe, calculating eyes scanning over her. She was _interesting,_ she was intriguing. On top of being undeniably sexy. He wanted to get to know her, get inside that pretty little head, if only it might be useful to the Club, to understand her, knowing what made her tick. But she was interesting. A cold, unemotional exterior with sudden bursts of temper. A seemingly un-remorseful mind set.

"Mind telling me what the ..._fuck ..._ that was?" He pushed, off the doorframe stalking into her office. Annell sighed, as he took a seat in the chair in front of her desk, the same seat Nikolai had occupied mere moments ago.  
"Ah, I don't know." a bitter chuckle escaping her lips, as she grabbed a cigarette placing it between her lips. She stood against her desk, leaning back against it, the wood pushing into her lower back. Tig laughed.

"You don't know? You were screaming in the fucking lobby about fucking someone else; you told that asshole it was never good with him, which by the way..thats cold." His light blue eyes peered up at the young woman, poised against the desk as she lit her cigarette, blue-grey smoke pouring from between her deep red painted lips. It was a nice look for her, he thought. The deep red contrasted against the alabaster skin; sexy. He almost didn't even see the cuts that littered her face anymore.

"It wasn't." she said simply, taking a drag off her cigarette. "Never was.."

"You fuck him?" Tig groaned, his head falling against her hand. Elbow propped on the arm of the chair he messaged his temple. Great! this was going to go over fantastically with the little prince. Not only did he fuck her, exactly as Jax told him _not _to. Now, she has a..whatever.. thats pissed off. This wasn't the first man's woman Tig had ever fucked, it wouldn't be the last. But some how he didn't think Jax would be thrilled if this _douche bag _started fucking up their business.

"More than I care to admit too." she sighed, her head hanging down a bit. " Come on, like you don't have any crazy, bitter exes?" she quirked an eyebrow. Tig found a small smile stretching across his lips. Yeah...

"Little old for ya', huh doll?" Annell burst out laughing, stubbing out her cigarette in the glass ash tray on her desk. Her body turned, she jumped in surprise as two hands slid over the black starchy material of her skirt, over her bottom, Grabbing onto her hips, she was pulled onto Tig's lap.

"I'd watch it." she chuckled, crossing her legs at the knees as she allowed him to drap her over his thighs. "I'd say; that you two are...about the same age.." she teased good-naturedly as his face twisted into a harsh scowl. "It's alright, I like my men..older."

"You hungry, doll? Let's get outta here."

* * *

Everything hurt; her whole body ached. The room reeked to high heaven of peroxide and other chemicals, the linens were scratchy and and irrating. Her face ached. Her nose shattered, and broken. A plastic surgeon had just left. Roxy was propped up in a railed hospital bed, her hair hung in her face, greasy and ratty. Her arm laid gently between her body and the bedrail, tightly bandaged. Her head lazily hung to the side, a thick pair of bi-focals perched on her nose as she gazed at the television.

"Mrs. Federovich?" a well-dressed Spanish man ducked in through the curtain that separated her from her roommate. He was..something. Handsome, with chiseled angular features, warm almond shaped eyes, and a smile. A smile that could light up a room.

"Yeah." she croaked gruffly. "Who are-"

"Special Agent Juan Ramirez. " he nodded, eye her immobile hand he patted her foot under the starchy linen. Roxy's crow-feeted eyes widened, her chapped lips dropping open.

"No, no, no you can't be here." she said panic filling her. Annell...Annell would kill her. She would find out, she _always _found out. Struggling to sit up, she pounded her 'good' hand against the 'call' button. "You have to go." she looked at the younger man with wide panic-filled eyes.

"Please; Mrs. Federovich, calm yourself. You are perfectly safe." he soothed, taking a seat the vinyl aged teal chair at her bedside. As the older woman frantically pounded the 'call' button, Juan soothingly he reached out, rubbing her calf.

"No you don't understand, you need to leave!"

"I , we can protect you. I just need you to tell me what happened, Mrs. Federovich." Juan maintained, leaning over the ageing woman he pried the 'call' button away from her, setting it on the night stand.

"I had...an accident in the kitchen. I wasn't paying attention. Ya' know- I- I really should be more careful." Roxy sputtered, her eyes shifting in their bruised, blackened sockets.

"You accidently broke your nose, shattered a cheekbone and scalded yourself?" Juan quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm a klutz.."

"Here, Roxy. May I call you Roxy?" She nodded. "I know that your husband was involved with some...very bad people. I know that. I know that they excommunicated him. I know Miss. Propkovic can be...temperamental." Roxy snorted. " I _think_ that she is the one who did this to you. All I need you to do is fill in some blanks. All I need you to do is say the words. We can protect you. I'll make sure she can never hurt anyone else. Ever." Roxy chewed her bottom lip, flinching when she drew blood.

"I think you should go."

"Mrs. Fed-"

"No. You don't understand...and you need to leave. I had an accident."

* * *

Annell hugged herself tightly against Tig's back. Her face pressed tightly against him. They had been riding on the back of his bike for hours, hours or minutes. She wasn't sure. she knew they were near the coast; the smell of salty water hung heavily in the humid air. Her eyes could feel the damp air kissing her face, her eye lashes were sticky from the salt. She squeezed her knees tightly against his thighs as he turned. Pulling into a run down looking shack. The large pavilion outside was utterly packed. People littering every crevice . Sliding off the back of his bike, she watched Tig take off his helmet as he climbed off. Their eyes meeting; he smirked.

"Go get us a seat, doll. I'll get food." he said gruffly. Before he stalked inside the rundown looking building leaving her standing in the parking lot, looking around shrugged, slapping her palms against her thighs, as she started towards the pavilion. After shoving and pushing her way through the crowd, she finally found an old looking wood picnic table, sliding onto the bench. She lit a cigarette, as she was met with a nasty glare from a plump woman across the way. The bleached blonde thirty something,had herself crammed into clothes that were two sizes to small, she drummed her overly long acrylic nails against the wood.

"Screw you, krispy kreme." Annell smiled, as she spoke in an overly sugary sweet voice.

"I leave you for a minute.."Tig said taking a seat next to her. Throwing a nasty glare at the woman across they way. "Play nice, doll." Annell rolled her eyes, stubbing out her cigarette she eyed the paper plate Tig pushed in front of her. Sea food. this was a sea food joint. It smelled delicious.

"So.." Annell picked up a shrimp, ripping the tail off before she popped it in her mouth. " I know 'Tig' isn't your real name..." Smirking, he let out a bark of laughter.

"No, but it might as well be." He said cryptically.

"What is it?" Tig shook his head, looking up from his food his haunting eyes bore into the young woman across from him.

"Alex...Alexander. If you ever fucking call me that, I'll kill ya'. " Annell smiled, nodding her head. "My turn. What's up with the fucking douche?"

"I already told you."

"No, I mean _really? _you couldn't do any better than that?" He leaned across the table his ringed hands clasped together. Annell sighed, it was a fair question.

"I started..seeing him when I was very young. I guess I had low standards." she chuckled. "No, seriously. I was young and I guess I liked the attention. I wasn't a very socially inept teenager." Tig choked on a bit of shrimp.

"How young we talkin?"

"Sixteen.."

"Shhhit. Jailbait." Annell shrugged, her eyes dropping to her plate as she speared another shrimp with her fork.

"Yeah, I guess."

"He the only one you ever fuck?" Tig said, his mouth half-full as he asked. Annell laughed. Men.

"Nope." She smiled. "I fucked you, didn't I?"

"Shit, doll." he sighed, his head falling into his palms as he ran his finger through his wild locks. "Look, If you think-"  
Annell burst out laughing. She was laughing..at him. Her pert little mouth twisted in amusement, her pretty big blue eyes shining with laughter.

"I don't think anything, If your worried that I'm gonna be all up in your shit. Don't. I get it." Annel sighed. Wiping her mouth with a paper napkin, she sighed.

"I'm a fuck em' and chuck 'em type a guy." he supplied.

"I can respect that." She smirked. Her smirk grew wider as a calloused hand slid across her knee, the cool metal of his rings scraping against her hot skin. She kept her eyes fixed on his as he slid his large hand higher up her thigh, slipping into her skirt.A finger brushing against the satin of her panties. A wicked smile on his lips. She was drenched. It was so hot. His calloused hands caught on the stain, as he worked his hand inside. Annell's eyes widened innocently as she tried to wiggle her bottom discreetly away.

"Eh eh eh." he tutted softly, roughly gripping her hips. He pulled her flushed against his side, taking a long sip off his beer as his hand snaked back up her skirt. Leaning in, he pressed his lips against the shell of her ear. "You make one peep and I'll punish ya." biting, her lip she nodded. A curtain of burgandy hair falling in her face. His index finger discreetly stroked her clitoris through her soaked underwear, his eyes glued to her face. Her alabaster skin flushed a deep pink, her teeth bit into her bottom lip, and her eye lids closed. Pushing the panties aside he slipped a finger inside her. Her pretty big blue eyes shooting open, as she stared wide eyed into his. Slowly, almost gently he thrust in and out under the table, she bit back a moan. Tig smiled wider, his cock hard and straining against his jeans. Slipping another finger inside, he bit back his own moan as she clenched around his fingers. Annell flushed, her breathing ragged. Her eyes staring at his arm, the angle of it, the motion. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on at their table, and this place was packed. She was to far gone to care. she didn't care. Couldn't at this moment.

His fingers caressed her from inside, the hot tightness that surrounded them, made him harder. If that was even possible. He resisted the urge to throw her over the picnic table and fuck her senseless in front of all these..assholes. Annell whimpered softly; her head falling down onto his shoulder as his thumb pressed against the little bundle of nerves.

"Act natural, baby." he coaxed, against her forehead. She smelled amazing like perfume and cigarette. Her knees knocked together as he thrust in and out, his thumb rubbing the small woman into a frenzy. Her high heeled feet rose up onto her toes, her walls tightened around his fingers as he bit back a groan, resisted the urge to rub his own cock. "Look at me." he commanded against her fore head. The tension in her legs tight, as she rose her eyes from his leather clad shoulder, her deep blues clouded with lust as she store at him. Her lips parted, as her eyes rolled back in her head. Her pelvis rocking against his hand, he grinned.

Leaning his forehead against hers, his breath blowing against her face. "Do it, baby. Ride me. Make yourself come." he coaxed. It was all it took. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, a soft whimper escaping her lips, as her pelvis jolted forward. Her walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers. He groaned.  
His light eyes staring into hers, she watched, panting as he rose his hand to his mouth, slipping his index and middle fingers inside. Her eyes shooting open, she yelped. Her cheeks burning a deep crimson. Annell's eyes started to shift around the pavilion the same blonde woman staring, a look of disgust craved into her face, as she scowled at the pair. Annell's face burned, and her head dropped onto Tig's shoulder.

"They saw." her voice muffled by the leather of his cut.

"Who gives a shit." he chuckled.

"I have to go to the bathroom." she muttered, lifting her head she tugged her skirt down. Pushing through the crowd it felt very much like 'the walk of shame'. But she felt amazing, every nerve tingling, her legs felt like they were made of jelly.  
Tig smirked, very pleased with himself. Taking another swig of his beer, he groaned as his cock strained painfully against his jeans. She was so sexy, he couldn't help it. He should have not done that, he should be sick of her by now, but he wasn't. Eventually he'd chuck her, but for now..she knew the score, didn't seem to care. So where was the harm? Cold, harsh blue eyes slid to the table across the the way, that blonde bitch still scowling.

"What?! It was really good shrimp."


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N : I want to take a minute to thank everyone whose reading this story for taking the time out to do so. I appreciate at the favorites and follows. As well as the reviews they mean a lot to me. So thank you! Please take a minute to review, I really like to know what your thinking, and if you're enjoying this story. Reviews also motivate me!_

* * *

_Chapter Fifteen: Ninety-Nine_

_"It's a pound of flesh, but it's really a ton. I got ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one."-Hugo_

* * *

The smell of rancid beer and cigarettes hung heavily in the bar. The already dank, dark air hung stale and literally had swirls of cigarette smoke coiled through. It hung so thickly, that cigarette smoke had actually mixed itself with the air, giving the whole bar a hazy, unclean feeling. A large man sat at the bar; his bald clean shaven head in his hands. Shockingly, he wore grey pleated dress slacks and a crisp Burgundy button down. The small patch of manicured golden-brown goatee the only visible patch of hair.

The elderly man with a crop of slicked back snow white hair, held a bar towel in his wrinkled hand, wiping down the bar he smirked.

"Girl problems?" The elderly man smirked, a leaning forward on his elbows, he pushed a pair of wire rimmed aviator style glasses up his nose. The young man, was on his fourth beer and third shot. Girl problems. The old man allowed his eyes to look over the boy. Man. He looked _dangerous._ Pale skin, icy blue eyes, a clean shaven head. Oval face with chiseled cheekbones, and a small light-colored goatee. His neck was thick, and tattoos crept out of his collar. His large, beefy index finger and thumb pinched a shot glass between them, slamming back the fiery liquid.

"You could say that.." He said, gruffly as the vodka burning its' way down his throat, into his stomach. Petrov was in a hell of a bind, this was his time. His chance to prove that he could climb the ranks of the gulag. he failed. How could he? He fired three shots, he'd seen the car flip. How could Propkovic still be alive? maybe he'd under estimated her, they all said she was a tough bitch. He would not make that mistake again.

* * *

Annell had fallen into a sense of unease. Something felt off, hell, everything felt off. The entire 'family' felt like it was filled with tension, ready to give at any moment. Granted, she didn't know much about how the grunts felt, she didn't interact with them much. That was Simon's role, the go-between. The living room was dark, save for the eerie bluish-white flicker of the television, the low muffled sounds filling the room as she flicked from channel to channel. She nestled herself comfily in the corner of the dark chocolate colored sectional. A glass of merlot clasped in her hand. She'd almost had a life once outside of Vory v Zakone, the life her father wanted for her. She gone to the community college, studied psychology briefly. That was short-lived. The truth was Vladimir had never wanted this for his daughter, it was expected that she would succeed him. As that was how Vory v Zakone worked, but if the 'heir' was un-willing or unable, the role of Boss would be passed over to the next in line. Vladimir had always hoped Annell would be married with a life, a career before that decision would have to be made.

But it didn't come to that, Annell very quickly learned in college she wasn't like her counter-parts. She didn't really know how to function outside of the strict confines of Vory v Zakone. It was the only life she knew. The only life she was _comfortable _with. Even now, it was hard to live with out her father. He'd always told her who to associate with, who was alright and who wasn't. The knock at the front door jarred her from her thoughts. Her hair hung down her back in a slightly tangled mess. The kinks from being up in a tight bun all day, making clear indentations in the normally pin straight tresses. Laying the wine glass on the dark wooden coffee table, she picked up the the black matte finished .45. Clicking the safety off, she pulled back the slide until a round clicked into the chamber.

"Yeah?" She spoke through the ornate stained glass front door. The hand gun gripped tightly against her side.

"Nel, It's George." With a sigh, she clicked the safety back on. Laying the gun gently on the chaise, next to her purse and the other items she had tossed there. Throwing open the door, she smiled. Embracing the elderly man. he wound his tattooed arms around her, squeezing her against him. "Baby, we need to talk.." His blue eyes store down at her, they were cloudy as he shut the door.

"Come in the kitchen I'll fix you something to-" She called over her shoulder, as she padded down the hall. Her bare feet cold against the ceramic tile as she peered into the refrigerator.

"I'm not hungry, dear." George sighed, messaging his temples. Dragging a stool out from beneath the breakfast bar, the old man slipped on top. "What have you done?" Annell's heart beat fast, as she closed the door.

"I don't know what you mean." She spoke softly staring into the brushed stainless steel door. Her hand gripping the black plastic handle so tightly, her knuckles were turning white.

"Annell...we don't kill children and we don't kill women." George sighed, his head falling into his hands, his elbows resting heavily on the granite counter top. Annell chewed viciously at her bottom lip, turning her blue eyes blazing with anger.

"I didn't kill anyone. Not lately." She spoke dangerously soft, her hands gripped her hips as she glowered at the old man.

"But you attacked a _member's _wife. How do you think that looks? It's a PR nightmare. How do you think it looks to other families? Like we are in shambles! Everyone with a connection to this family knows that you have never had any use for that woman." George reasoned, his eyes staring down at the counter-top, his fingers threading through his thin grey hair.

"Oh please, She's not even hurt that bad, maybe a little banged up." Annell rolled her eyes, as she sagged against the refrigerator.

"That is not the point." George hissed, raising his head. Sliding his wire rimmed aviator style glasses up his hooked nose. "It's how it is perceived, we need to keep this in the family. It can never see the light of day. I don't care if you thought she was a rat; you had no proof. You cannot just kill someone on a whim!"

"Jesus, George!" Annell slammed her hands hard against the granite breakfast bar. " I never wanted her dead! I didn't go in there with the intention of killing her! You know me! If I wanted her dead, she'd be dead!"

"No, you just beat that poor woma-"

"Oh, that poor woman, that poor fucking woman..I'm so sick of hearing that shit! I'm sorry, okay!" She ranted. Annell paced the length of the kitchen, her hands waving wildly as she spoke. "Is that what you want me to say? I was _wrong_, would you like me to shout it from a fucking mountain top? " her fists clenched at her sides as she took a seat across the room at the kitchen table.  
"It was never about her. I knew when I went to that house that there was a chance she wasn't the rat. So I never had any intention killing her. I planned to beat it out of her, we all know she's a spineless little twit. " Annell's voice took a soft turn as she turned her attention out the sliding glass doors, starring out into the yard. "And if I was wrong, I sent a message. It was about sending a message." Turning her head, she tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. She felt a small piece of her heart break . George store at his god daughter, his mouth slightly agar, a twisted look of horror etched into his weathered, wrinkled features.

"Do not look at me like that." Annell spat, the sickly greenish yellow bruising on her pale skin giving the disgusted look on her face a little more punch.

"I'm not looking at you like anything, Nellie." George groaned, cupping his hands over his nose; he tiredly slid his fingers over the weathered, leathery skin of his jowls.

"You're looking at me like I'm so kind of...monster or something." Annell shook her head, unfolding the glasses hooked into the neckline of her tank top, she slid them on. " Get off your high horse. You and Dad were no better." she sneered.

"That was different."

"I made a call, I stand by it."

"You're... you're not your father, Annell." George sighed. "You can't...you-" Annell slammed a hand against the table with a crack. Her face twisted in anger; her lips thinned and eyes narrowed.

"Because I'm not man! Is that it? In one breath you're telling me I have to make the men respect me, that I have to make these calls! In the next you're here berating me for them!" Pushing off the table she stalked across the kitchen, leaning against the breakfast bar, she store at the haggered man. "Which is it? Please, enlighten me. Because you're sending me mixed messages here."

George looked at the young woman, unable to form the words he wanted to say. Her face a putrid green-yellow, her eyes tired and aged. For such a young girl, she was so jaded. He could not help but hold himself partially responsible. He was responsible for robbing her of her own soul. Annell ran her fingers through her hair, bringing her hands together at the crown of her head, she hid her face in the crook of her elbows. She wasn't ready; they both knew it. She had gone from simply being a daughter to being responsible for the whole operation, practically overnight. It wasn't fair.  
With a shaky tattooed, slightly wrinkled hand he reached across the bar. His calloused hand cupping Annell's cheek, his thumb lightly brushing over the healing, scabbed cuts.  
"I'm sorry, we've done this to you baby. I'm so sorry."

* * *

Annell pulled into the back parking lot of _'Da'. _The normally buzzing neon lights dead in the bright sun. The white immaculate mortar and brick building still seemingly buzzing with a activity. Annell sighed, sliding her black framed glasses up her small nose. Her long reddish-black hair was twisted into a elegant, tight french knot high on the crown of her head. Her sky-high black pumps clicked against the pavement as she closed the door. Demetri, Simon and three nameless grunts, clad in black pin-stripped suits met her at the glass paned doors. Demetri smiled brightly, flashing a set of white perfectly straight teeth. "Ahh...Lazarus rises!" he laughed. Annell's full pink lips pulled back in wide smile.

"Fuck you. I'm not the one who put me out of commission. Too busy to take care of your own Boss?" She teased, slipping her large black handbag over her shoulder.

"Ahh, Nel. It was for your own-" She waved a small hand flippantly. "I was only teasing, jack ass. You assembled the girls?" She asked. Without waiting for an answer she pressed her hands against the glass pushing into the building.

"Sons will be here within the hour, payments due." Simon supplied, tailing behind the diminutive woman as she strode into the den of inequity. High heels clicked against the hardwood floors, the deep purple walls took on a almost black hue, as the strobe lights blinked, and neon light purple shone on the brass pole in the center of the stage. Annell nodded walking over to the matte finished onyx bar in the far corner, the blue blinking neon lights under the lip of the bar casting an eerie grey glow against the alabaster skin of her legs.

"Fine. Let 'em come. I should be done with this..business before then. Get those pretty little asses in these chairs." Annell said, laying her purse on the bar top, she flippantly waved at limp wrist behind her to the large sea of tables and chairs. She placed a cigarette between her lips, she flicked a shiny sliver zippo to life. Her eyes watched as Simon nodded, his large form climbing the roped off staircase in the far corner. Turning around Annell, rested her elbows back against the bar, leaning back. She exhaled a blue haze of caustic smoke. Sliding her tongue over her teeth, she clicked her tongue. As the sound of high heels slammed against the stairs.

Clunk, Clip, Clop.

A chorus of heavy plastic heels slammed against the wood, sounding very much like a herd of elephants. A sea of scantily clad bodies filtered in, taking seats. Pretty faces, barely covered breasts and asses stared at the young woman leaning against the bar.

"Hello, ladies. " Annell smirked. "I don't know if you've heard, but there are going to be some...changes...around here. I, unfortunately have some bad news." She smiled sadly at her captive audience. Her eyes meeting those of a young, green-eyed redhead. "For whatever reason; the police, ATF and Vice have been...sniffing around. As of today, there will be no more - _extras _for any clients. Any one." Taking a drag off her cigarette, she pushed off the bar, taking a few graceful steps towards the women.

"How will we-" an older thirty something brunette for the back spoke up. Her thin arms crossing over her large silicon infused chest.

" Straight tips, baby's. I mean it, girls. Nothing extra until I give the go ahead." She pointed a well-manicured finger at the women. " I'm waving the house fee until we...resume business as usual." Annell smirked as a few of the girls nodded appreciatively.

"What about my regulars? They don't want to just..watch me _dance!_" An overly spray-tanned blonde and large lips scowled. Annell's lips pulled into a half-smile and pursed. Her gaze sliding to the tall, busty Oompa-Loompa.

"I do not care." Annel hissed; enunciating each syllable. A cloud of smoke escaping from between her lips. "I don't care if the President of the goddamn United States waltzes in here tomorrow and wants you." She pointed an condemning finger at the bitch. "To suck his big, black cock. You don't do that. You're just a _dancer, _until further notice. As for the regulars; tell them it's for their own good. As well as ours."

"Annell." Behind her glasses, her blue eyes drifted to the back far corner. A tall, amazon-like woman with pale blonde hair and a slightly winkled face, smiled back sadly. " I appreciate everything you do. But I have three kids I have to take care of." A heavy accent left her lips as she spoke. "I can't live on tips. Not enough."

"Aksana, I understand that." Annell's face softened, and her lips thinned as she offered a tight lipped smile. "If any..of you have a problem until things get back to normal you talk to Simon," she pointed her index finger over her shoulder, at the dark haired man leaning against the bar. Flashing a dazzling smile, he picked up a large, tattooed hand and waved gently. "I'm at your beck and call, ladies." he bowed dramatically. A few small giggles filled the bar.

"Alright. Pack it in, Casanova." Annell shot over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. The loud rumbling of engines rattled the club as Annell quirked an eyebrow. "Thought you said I had an hour?" Simon shrugged.

"They're heeerrreee." Demetri said in a hitch-pitched 'Poltergeist' -esque voice. Annell sighed, irately taking a drag off her cigarette. The sounds of the doors swinging open and boots thudding against the hardwood filled the club, as she shook her head. Tig, Chibs and Jax filtered in as she looked back at them over her shoulder.

"I'm taking care of some business, have a drink." she shot over her shoulder, nodding her head towards the bar. "Everybody understand?" She quirked an eyebrow at the ladies.

"You can't stop me from taking clients on my free time." A young girl, at the closest table spoke. Annell didn't recognize her, but the arrogant smile on those pert little lips was irritating.

"I can't?" Annell tilted her head to the side, a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips. "If I hear that _anyone_ is giving extras..here or otherwise. I'll send them back to wherever they came from." She smiled overly-sweetly. "In a body bag."

"Vory v Zakone doesn't hurt women..." the same girl smirked, flipping her bleached blonde hair over her shoulder. She returned the sweet smile, her brown eyes narrowed as her nose scrunched. Chibs whistled lowly, tossing a look at Tig next to him as Simon handed out the beers he clutched in his beefy fingers. Simon chuckled lowly, and smiled.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Annell's voice was soft and sweet, as she flicked her cigarette behind her on the immaculate hardwood. "Pick that up." she demanded at the icy blonde grunt in the corner.

"Tatiana." The blonde's smirk faltered as she looked at the small woman who crossed her arms over her chest.

"How long have you been working for _me?_"

"Seven months...' she swallowed thickly. "Vladimir brought me here." Annell nodded, seven months. That was right before he died... interesting.

"Well I don't know if you heard, but my _father_ is dead. There's been a change in management." Annell flashed a smile, as she took slow deliberate steps towards the girl. Her legs crossing over each other with each step. Simon smirked at Chibs and Tig. "Watch this." he chuckled. Annell stopped, her heels clicked together as she store down at the seated woman. Her hand shooting out, she roughly gripped the girl by her chin, forcing her to look up into the harsh cold blue gaze, hidden behind her glasses.

"My father didn't _hurt_ women. " She chuckled. "Oh, you know some kind of misogynistic form of chivalry." she hissed, her fingernails digging into the smooth supple flesh of the girls cheeks. "I don't give a shit what you have between your legs. The whole 'but I'm a woman' thing doesn't fly with me, sweetheart. If I find out and I will; That your taking any clients, I'll slit your throat and have him." She jerked the girls face to look at Demetri as he sipped his beer. "Fuck the gaping hole." The girl tears splashed down her face, black tear stains marring her cheeks as she gasped.

"Could be fun." Demetri supplied, still holding the beer up to his lips. Annell squeezed harder, her nails digging deeper. Jerking the girls head roughly back to look at her. Her gaze was cold and calculating. Annell smiled, with her free hand she wiped the tears away from the girls cheeks, only smearing the black streaks further across her cheeks. Tatiana blinked rapidly, breaths escaping her lips in panicked, raspy tufts.

"Do we understand each other?" Annell flicked her wrist as she let go, causing Tatiana's head to jerk to the side. Tatiana nodded wordlessly, unable to speak as tears spilled down her cheeks smattering against her thighs. Keeping her head hung, her long blonde locks hiding her face; she squeaked. "I said: Do we understand each other?" Annell growled, her hand tangling itself in the long pretty locks. Pulling Tatiana's head back, the girl yelped, her brown doe-like eyes wide.

"_DA!_ Yes, yes." she cried. Her head bent back at an un-natural angle as Annell store down at her. The look of disgust that had etched itself into Annell's features mocked the girl. Slamming her hand forward against the base of Tatiana's head, Annell let go of her grip on the hair.

"Good!" She chirped, a toothy smile flashing at the horrified, wide-eyed , gaping women. "Any other questions? No. Great." Annell said, tilting her head to the side. Turning on her heels she sauntered to the bar, snatching up her purse. Deliberately she avoided Tig's searing eyes that seemed to be boring holes into her flesh. "Come on, my office." She crooked a finger at the three leather clad men. "Watch them." she shot at Demetri. Her high heels clicked as she crossed the large club, never sparing a look for the women who stared as she past them, the small parade of men behind her.

"Hi." Tig smiled brightly at the crowd of women.


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter Sixteen: Heart-Shaped Glasses_

* * *

_"I couldn't take my eyes of her; But thats not what I took off that night. She'll never cover up what we did with her dress. She said: "Kiss me, it'll heal, but it won't forget." -Marilyn Manson_

* * *

Juan Rameriz paced his office, he was at the end of his rope. Frustration coursed through his veins as if it where part of him; part of his very soul. He hated her! He couldn't think of any other way to describe the way he felt about a woman he didn't even know... Oh but he did know her. He knew her well: Annell Marlena Propkovic born November Twelfth, 1987. Her first incarceration was at eighteen; witness tampering. Her second at twenty-two: Promotion of prostitution. He knew her _kind_ well, arrogant and selfish. It was the lack of concern though, that honestly scared him. The lack of insight of the general public to see how dangerous these people were. His own assistant! She didn't seem to grasp how deadly this woman was. As she looked over his shoulder tucking a mousey brown strand of hair behind her heavy ringed ear. "_That's her? That's the big-bad mob boss? she looks like she's a damn baby; pretty though."_ That simple comment had sent him into a tail spin. Why didn't they get it? His own bosses often joked about how 'tiny' she was during briefings. She wasn't _tiny_; she was a fucking criminal.

" Yeah, I know!" Ralph; a ginger haired, lanky twenty something with coke-bottle glasses chuckled. Tugging at his navy blue tie, he smirked at Rosie over his shoulder. Juan shook his head glaring down at the black and white photos littering his desk. Fucking bitch. Ralph snorted a bit, as he laid another stack of folders on the corner of the desk. Leaning his gangly frame over the desk, he pushed his glasses up his nose with his finger. "She don' t look that danger-"

"What the fuck is wrong with you people!?" Juan roared, slamming his hands against his desk. the manilla folder he had in his hand flew across the office, as he threw it underhanded, like a Frisbee. Rosie jumped. He jumped out of he seat glaring at the two young people.  
"What the fuck is wrong with you? _Pretty?_ Do you have any idea how much money this _pretty _people cost you in tax dollars! If you buy a T.V, a car, a goddamn toaster it costs you more because of these people! They're scum!" he screamed, stalking over to the large picture window over looking the bay, he planted his hands on either side, leaning his head against the cool glass. Deep breaths.. in and out...in and out. sighing, his threw his hands in the air quickly, holding up a finger as if he'd just had a brilliant idea.  
"Oh, not to mention:" he turned, shaking his finger in the air as he store at his staff with wide, astonised eyes. " _They fucking kill people from time to time!"_

* * *

Annell sighed, leaning back in her desk chair. She watched with little interest as Jax opened the bag, his eyes roaming over the cash. Looking down at her nails, she eyed her chipped manicure; brushing her thumb over the tip of her middle finger. "It's all there." she supplied an almost bored tone in her voice.

"I know, darlin." He said, quickly standing. Chibs on his heel. "I'm gonna head out..You know, shit to do.." Annell nodded slowly, her eyes still trained on her hand. Jax paused in the doorframe, his eyes darting over his shoulder to a still seated, very casual looking Tig. "You comin?"

"Nah, think I'll hang around a bit." Tig smiled, propping his elbow against the back of his chair, and leaning his head against his fist. "You know, check out the broads." Jax thinned his lips in thought, nodding slowly. His eyes darted between Tig and Annell; who leaned back in her chair, her thumb and index finger tugging at her bottom lip.

"Alright...See you back at the clubhouse?"

"Yeah." Annell quirked an eyebrow as the door shut with a snap. A smirk tugging on her full lips. "Check out the broads?" Annell stood, tugging at the hem of her tight grey button-down. Tig gaze feel to her fore-arm, staring at an intricate design of the The Virgin Mother clutching and infant Jesus to her chest, lifting his gaze he lifted and eyebrow.  
"Come 'ere." He beckoned; patting his jean clad thigh. Annell pursed her lips; popping a hip, she narrowed her eyes.

"Excuse me? I don't-" She tensed as his large hands gripped her hips bones. dragging her into his lap, she put up little fight. Instead choosing to suck in her cheeks and turn her head; making sure Tig was fully aware of her annoyance. "Take orders well.." she finished, as he draped her legs over his thighs. A large calloused index finger tracing the slightly raised lines of black ink under the smooth, delicate skin of her forearm.

"What's this mean?" Tig said softly. His breath tickling her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She resisted the urge to close her eyes and just melt into him. No, don't get to close. Close is bad, it's dangerous.

"Huh?" she managed to mumble. Her eyes falling to her up-turned forearm, watching him. As his large gold ringed index finger traced the pattern of her ink, in a surprisingly gentle manner.

"Juice says this means...shit. Like it's some kind of language."

"Oh, yeah." Annell straightened up, tapping a finger nail next to his on the tattoo. " There's a reason most of have tattoos; you can see what kind of person you're dealing with without having to actually even speak to them. this means I have been in the life since I was young." She turned her head to smile up at Tig, who was still the tiniest bit taller. "But you already knew that.." Annell closed her eyes as his breath tickled over her face. He smelled of cigarettes; leather and something else. Something she couldn't put her finger on; something that was just..him. Distinctly Tig. Leaning into the solidness of his chest, a shiver ran down her spine as his facial hair scratched deliciously against her skin.

"You wanna get out of here?" He growled into her ear, as his thick calloused fingers drug up the silky material of her nude stockings. The roughness of his hand catching a few times, snagging the delicate material.

"I have work to do.." she protested weakly. Batting his hand away, again only half heartedly. She yelped as Tig stood, she nearly toppled off his lap as he grabbed her. Pulling the smaller woman flush against him, he caught her lips in a bruising kiss. His lips viciously claimed hers, punishing hers. As her large ringed hands went to her hair, tugging it down from it's tight straight-laced confines.

"Let's go." He growled.

Marina sat at her desk. Her white hair done in a perfect tuft of hair, it resembled a cotton ball. The lines on her pale freckled face confessing that she'd lived a rather...hard life. Her thin wrinkled fingers trembled as she shuffled through a stack of papers on her desk. Dropping them she wiped away the tears that openly streamed down her cheeks. She was scared; not for herself. She raised that girl, from the time she was in diapers. She watched a young girl grow into a beautiful woman, and into a monster. Her heart felt broken inside and she sobbed. it was her fault. She shared the blame with others, but this... could have easily been avoided. She had the blood of Annell's soul on her hands. At first she didn't she the change, maybe it was subtle or maybe she was in denial. Nonetheless; she noticed it now, the sheer amount of violence Annell was oozeing, the cold aloofness. She had seen that child at her most vunerable; when she was a blossoming young woman and cried that she didn't have a mother, she had been there. Been there to hold the gangly teen to her chest, and whisper sootheing words. She now looked at the elderly woman with the face of a monster; her eyes dead, unfeeling.  
Then something changed. She watched as that man; the tall man with wild dark hair tugged Annell out of her office. She laughed loudly as he unceremoniously let a large hand grab a handful of her bottom, giving it a generous squeeze. Marina wanted to be repulsed, she wanted to be appalled. He looked old enough to be Annell's father, but she wasn't. There was a life that flickered in Annell's eyes, a happiness. A happiness that Marina hadn't seen for too long. Much too long.

"Where is Annell?" George leaned against the open door frame. His face looked tired and haggard, as his ageing body sagged against the wood.

"Out." The older woman said. Turning her back to him, she wiped her cheeks furiously.

"Out where?"

"With the dark haired man. The one with the curly hair, and blue eyes." Her accent was heavy as she spoke. She heard George breath; _'Govno'. _A small smirk pulled at her thin chapped lips, as she bent down in her desk chair, opening the bottom drawer she pulled out a small bottle, a fifth of vodka. "Oh, what could it hurt? Let her be..." she said softly. Her wrinkled blue eyes focusing as she splashed the clear liquid into a paper cup. George groaned, his teeth gritted as she plopped into the opposite chair. His salt and peppered hair slicked back, and his glasses uncharacteriscally absent. Marina shook her head as she eyed the ugly Hawaiian shirt he wore.

"I need her head clear.." George said. Taking the bottle from the old woman's hand, taking a large swig off the bottle, he held it eyeing the label.

"It isn't." Marina sighed. Her chest tight as she took a sip off her cup. "She's dieing." Marina sighed, her head falling down into her hand.

"She's fine." George chuckled. "You worry about her too much. If you coddle her; she'll never grow into the leader we nee-"

"I don't want her too!" Marina hissed, her hand flying as she back-handed the paper cup. George watched as it's contents splashed. Covering papers, the wood of the desk, dripping down off the edge onto the floor. "You're killing her! The family is killing her. Are you dumb or just too blind to see it? There is reason that most do not rise to this rank at such young age..much less _women_. She isn't cut out for it, and you know it." Her eyes burned as she stared at the man across from her. Resentment flashing in them She blamed him, he knew. He could have saved her, he chose not to, out of selfishness. Annell was once a quiet, sweet girl. Who _cared _about people, actually cared. "You are killing her soul!" She cried, her hand slamming down hard, against the desk.

"Don't kid yourself, she was always like this." George sighed, taking another drink off the bottle.

"Nyet! No, When you left she was kind girl. Generous! _Loved_. This family is _killing _her. It will kill her. She is not same, she has become monster, because she had to. She cannot care, she cannot love because of what you have made her! You, and _him._" she spat with distaste.

"She'll be fine..." George said, leaning back casually in the chair, he draped his arm over the back.

"But at what cost? That is not Annell...I don't know who _that _is...This family is tearing her apart, piece by piece, and you do nothing to stop it. Some God Father." She snorted. George slammed his fist against the desk, Marina jumped a bit in her seat, laying a hand against her breast as George flew out of his chair.

"What would you have me do? She made her choice. She had a choice, don't fool yourself. She wasn't forced."

"She might as well have been! By you and that ghost of a man, all of you: Simon, Nikolai! You lead her like a lamb to slaughter. She never had choice."

"She decided.."

"You're _crushing her._ Vladimir didn't want this for her. He knew what would become of her, the kind of _shell_ of a person she would become. You should have stopped her, she isn't strong enough! She's too young.."

"I wasn't here!" George screamed, throwing his hands in the air as he stalked to the window. "I wasn't here, I'm doing the best I can...I'm pointing her in the right directions, I'm doing everything I can." He said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. _  
_  
"Not enough! You chase her away, you make her leave and never look back. Save her." George looked back over his shoulder. His face twisted in disgust.

"What do you know, _Blyadischa_? You are nothing more than an old whore." Marina's mouth twisted into a grimace as she stood, slapping her hand hard against his cheek with a _crack_.

"I am old whore. But who made me that? You, you_ and him._ I raise that girl." She screamed. Pointing, stabbing a finger into her own chest. "Not him. ME! I will not let you kill my baby! You know if you tell her..What _he _did. She won't, she'll turn her back on all of us."

"It would kill her. You're so concerned, why would you ask me to do that? She idolizes him, thinks he's some sort of _saint_. The most honorable man to ever live. You want me to shatter that, why? What good would it do; other that stir up old shit, long buried."

"She will never be able to trust you, him any of them."

"Knowing what he did, what _we_ did will kill her! No, she's fine where she is. She will adjust; everyone does. It's just an adjustment period."

"You tell her!" Marina yelled hysterically, her hands shaking as she turned her back to him. "You her, or I will." The old woman yelped as George grabbed her wrist slamming the old brittle woman against the wall. He store down at her, his eyes burning, his fingers digging into her wrinkled thin skin.  
"Don't be stupid." He hissed.

"You can lie to her, you can lie me. But don't lie to yourself. If she stays here, she will die. Both her body and spirit, it will crush her. Don't do that to her. If you care for her, even the slightest you will tell her. Or her blood is on your hands."

"and so will that!"

"Sometime you most be cruel to be kind...you tell her. She abdicates...she can have good life away...This family is poison to her, it's killing her slowly but surely. She still can choose! Bosses abdicate all the time.."

"Then what?! She's a felon! She'll never hav-"

"I want her to choose, to not have you or some twisted loyalty to him hanging over her. He is like a brick tied to her foot, he's drowning her. Please, for once in your sad, miserable life: do right thing."


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Hello all! I'm sorry this chapter took a while; there were more than a few bumps in the road when it pertained to this sucker! I want to thank everyone who followed and favorited. I owe a huge thanks to the best ladies around! LaughingWarrior, MuckyShroom, OzzysGirl, and EmeraldJewelSparkle, who pretty much talked me off a ledge earlier this week as far as my writing went, it's very easy to become disenchanted considering all the events that I've been dealing with, and I don't know what I would do without my FC ladies. Love to all my Freak Circle ladies!_  
_Disclaimer; I've said it before, I'll say again: I do not own the Sons of Anarchy, or any part of it._

* * *

_Chapter Seventeen _

_"My old man is a tough man; but he's got a soul as sweet as blood red jam, and he shows me that he knows me. Every inch of my tar black soul." -Lana Del Rey_

* * *

Annell padded through the kitchen, dark , only the dim light under the range hood lit the room with an eerie yellow glow. Running her fingers through her tussled, messy hair. Her bare feet were chilled against the cold ceramic tiled floor. Her eyes shifted to the microwave mounted above the range, 1:02 it counted down. Sighing, she checked the lock on the sliding glass door, giving the handle a good, hard tug. Satisfied with her relative safety, she circled the breakfast bar, topless and cold. She groaned. Pulling open the right side of the double-doored refrigerator and plucking out two beers.

_BEEP! _

The microwave squealed in its' usual obnoxious style, signaling that it completed its' task. Annell hissed as she pulled out the inflated paper bag, the top stinging her fingers.

"Oh...hot, hot." she breathed; dropping the popcorn bag on the granite counter top, as she shook out her hands. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She was chilly, she needed a sweatshirt; or she could always turn off the air...The humid, hellish night air would warm the house quickly. Looking through a few of the overhead cabinets, she grabbed a large plastic mixing bowl, ripping into the piping hot bag she dumped the fluffy, delicious contents. Hugging the plastic bowl to her chest; she looped her fingers around the neck of the bottles that sat on the counter, just waiting to be consumed.

The large house was dark, and quiet. As she padded down the dark, photo-lined hallway the moonlight that filtered in through the large multistory window on the second floor cast a bluish light in the darkened hall below. Slinking into the den, the television flickered from where it was mounted, she entered just in time to hear an outdated version of the Russian national anthem erupt from the speakers. She smirked. Tig laid sprawled out on the large over-stuffed sectional, his head propped up on his hand, as he drained a beer. Clearly more than comfortable, he tilted his head back , eyeing the half naked woman who padded in. Taking a seat in the corner; by his feet, settling the bowl between his muscled calves and the couch cushions, she held out an un-opened bottle. Just in time to hear: "_ I must break you..."_ in a heavy Russian accent come from the television. She rolled her eyes in the darkness.

"Thanks, doll. " Tig ripped the top off, taking a swig. "Commie bastard.." he shot at the television. Sitting up on the couch, he tossed the metal lid carelessly onto the coffee table across from them, as he stretched, naked as the day he was born. He propped up his bare feet on the coffee table, suddenly realizing his current company. "Oh. Sorry, beautiful." Annell curled her legs under her body, a bark of laughter passing her lips.

"No need," she laughed. "I'm not a communist. I was born here." she laughed, as her hand dove into the bowl. "It's a fact: at the time that this was made, Russia was a communist country...So in fact: " she stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Raising a hand she pointed a thin, tattooed finger at the large, blonde on the television. "He is a Commie bastard." She stated, a mouth full of popcorn. Tig smirked at the woman further down the couch.

Tig and Annell had found a strange ease in their 'relationship.' Tig had found the more time he spent around his hot piece of ass, that she was more ...tolerable than most. She was smart, funny, and undeniably sexy. She was...interesting. Like a puzzle that begged to be solved. There was a unspoken easiness to 'them' maybe it was because neither expected anything from the other; it was just fucking. Good fucking, decent. Not the best he'd ever had, but for once her personality seemed to combat her slightly...prudish nature. Plus, she was learning. A few weeks ago, there was no way she would have just hung around her home in a skimpy pair of black lacy skivvies. Weeks, shit, they'd been at it for weeks now? Fuck. When was he going to get tired of her? Ah fuck, he couldn't help it, he actually_ liked_ the bitch. Might even count her as a friend.

"What!" Annell squeaked; as she noticed his attention fixed on her, not the television. "Do I have something on my face or something?" she groaned, wiping at her lips and cheeks with her fingers.

"Nah, doll." Tig laughed, taking a long swig off his bottle. " Just looking at those spectacular tits." He lied with ease. Leaning over the arm of the couch he set his beer down on the end table, his hand knocking into a sliver picture frame, as it toppled over, face down on the wood. "Shit.." He picked the picture up, going to set in right but instead found himself staring... Reaching further across the end table, he pulled the chain of an aged white and blue tiffany lamp.

"Hey!" Annell yelped, shielding her eyes from the sudden brightness, " Pull it again, pull it again." She chanted. Tig gave the chain another tug, as the brightness dimmed to a lower ambery glow. His eyes fixed back on the photo he clutched. Settling back into the couch, he held the photo in his lap. Annell smiled back at him in the photo. She couldn't be more than..oh sixteen? She looked different. Her face was younger looking, her hair a light ashy brown, as opposed to the dark burgundy he'd grown so accustomed to. The teenager wore some sort of costume: a black old-fashioned looking gown. The long puffed-out skirt, came to a high 'V' in the front; cover in dark red ruffles. Her strange hair, was curled and done up in a some sort of up-do, he couldn't tell. He could see a red feather sticking up... A can-can dancer, maybe? Was she dressed as a can-can dancer? The man at her side was... insanely large.

The man at her side had an arm, around her shoulders, seemingly crushing the teenaged Annell to his side. Easily at least, 6 "8, maybe taller. The giant wore a cheesy-looking pin-striped suit with a matching fedora, and a 'Tommy Gun' hung at his side. He had a heavily wrinkled, aged face. A large hooked nose, thin lips and a hint a seemingly pitch black hair peeked out of sides of his slightly crooked fedora.

"Oh.." Annell breathed, as she slid next to him. "That's my father." She pointed out, tapping the glass with a finger nail. "That was Simon's Halloween party. He was a gangster..." she chuckled. "He appreciated irony." Tig narrowed his eyes, studying the photo, and then looking at Annell, his lips thinned.

"You don't look shit like him.."

"I know." she smiled, and giggle erupting from her chest. "I should be thankful for that! I suppose I look like my mother.." She added, combing her finger through her long, loose hair, she pulled it to the side over a bare shoulder.

"You suppose?" Tig quirked a eyebrow, leaning back over the arm, he carefully set the photo back its' place. "You never saw her?" That was...interesting.

"No," Annell shook her head, her eyes fixed on her lap. "She was junkie whore...literally a whore, she worked for my Dad. Needless, to say: at some point they fucked.." Her face twisted into a scowl. "Ugh.. that's disgusting. He always told me that when he found out she was knocked up he was able to keep her clean, but not long after I was born she ran off." She shrugged.

"You never looked for her? He never looked for her?"

"Nah, why would I? She left me, obviously she had no want or need to see me...If she did..or does I would assume she knows where to find me. Plus, Dad always said I was better off without her." Tig studied her face, the way she bit at her bottom lip, he didn't miss the flicker of..was that hurt? in her eyes. "I'm a bastard, literally a bastard." She smiled sadly, she eyes raising up to meet his. Her eyes were glassy, and her lips quivered. "Oh fuck!" She all but leapt from the couch. "I'm sorry. " She wiped at her eyes with her fingers. Tig watched as she reached into a plastic laundry basket on the very end of the sectional, pulling a tight plain black t-shirt over her head. A tense silence filled the room, he didn't know what to say. She wouldn't turn around, her eyes staring un-blinking at the light brown painted wall. "I think you should go." her voice cracked and hoarse.

"Doll, come 'ere." Tig coaxed from the couch.

"No, really... you should go..It's late." Annell kept her back to him, as he sighed. Pushing himself up from his very comfortable spot on the couch, he closed in on her, wrapping his large hand around a thin, boney wrist. He pulled her, making her face him. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, she sniffed. . "Doll..." he said softly, he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. Their bare chests pressed together, she laid her cheek against his chest. His heart thudded steadily beneath her ear, it was soothing. She could stay like this forever, and that was frightening. Resting his chin on top her head, his fingers drew small circles on her bare back, as he held her tightly. They stayed that way; both unable, unwilling to move.

"If you really want me to go..I'll go." Tig finally spoke; his voice gruff.  
Annell, pulled back, untangling her arms from him. She looked up at his face with wide eyes. "You should..." she nodded. She laid her palm flat against his chest, above his heart. Sliding her fingers through the graying curls. "I want you to."

"Fine." Tig said. She watched as the large man walked away from her. Naked as a jaybird climbing the stairs; she assumed to get dressed. Annell plopped on the couch, her head in her hands. She wanted to cry. Why was he going? Why didn't anyone ever just tell her "No". Just one person in her life... She wanted them to stick it out. Stick with her through the shit, just one person give her what she needed..not what she wanted. She didn't want him to go... She heard his heavy boots on the wood stairs, as he came down. She heard the front door open...her heart thundered in her chest. He was right there. Tell him not to go! Her heart screamed.

"Tig!?" She called out. The front door shut with a snap. He'd left. He left without saying 'Goodbye'.


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: I just want to take a minute to thank everyone who reviewed; favorite and followed. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!_

* * *

_Chapter Eighteen:_

_"I started clean but I'm jaded. Just phoning it in. Just breaking the skin. Can you help me? I'm bent. I'm so scared that I'll never get put back together..."_ _-Matchbox Twenty_

* * *

The crickets chirped loudly, as the humid night air hung heavily. Completely still, not even a breeze blew through the thick brush that surrounded the decent sized backyard. Annell's head hung back, resting tiredly against the metal of her patio chair. A cigarette dangled from her fingers, she wasn't smoking it though. The mixture of paper and tobacco slowly smouldered in the pitch black night. It was a beautiful night, perfect to sit out. With a limp hand, Annell brushed her slightly damp hair from her face, a sigh passing her lips.

It had been two weeks. Two blissfully uneventful weeks. The businesses were doing well, there was no rumblings of anything that could be considered unsavory, she should be pleased. Fuck. She should be thrilled; jumping for joy, doing back-flips. Instead Annell found her self_ here_ night after night. Outside; staring at the staring at the stars and chain-smoking. Two weeks. She hadn't heard a thing from him. No calls; not even a text. Although she could vaguely remember Tig telling her once as they lay in bed, smoking that he didn't _text_. She could still remember the scowl etched in his features as those blue eyes looked at his companion sideways. Nonetheless, There was nothing ...silence. No more late-night visits, no more random popping into the office.. nothing. It was more of less, over.

Granted, she could call him. Yet, she never did. Many nights she found herself staring at the screen of her phone, the bright light assaulting her eyes. Thumb hovering over a particular contact: _Tig Trager _ it would not be hard. It was a simple phone call. Still, she could not bring her self to make that phone call.  
He was angry with her; she knew that, even if it had never been spoken. Somehow it took her days to figure this out, but a lot more had taken place in her livingroom that night. Something unspoken; he'd offered her comfort and she threw it back in his face.

Annell sighed, stubbing out her cigarette. She rubbed her palms over her face, her eyes hurt. A hand clutched her phone, thumb tapping the screen. The bright light burst to life, illuminating the dark night. She flopped back against her chair, bringing the phone up to her narrowed eyes._ Tig Trager_, her thumb hovered over the 'call' button. Fuck this, she'd ruined it. She fucked everything up, like she always did. No, she wouldn't call. She was not a masochist.

* * *

The Clubhouse was buzzing with activity; cigarette smoke hung heavily in the air as crow eaters made their rounds. Tig found himself sitting at the bar, staring at a bottle of Jack Daniels. His calculating eyes swept the scene. Crow eaters grinding up against each other, the loud music filling the clubhouse. Ah, what the fuck was wrong with him? He normally would have reveled this; taken at least two back to his dorm. Ah, but his just didn't_ feel_ like it.  
Ah, fuck her. She was an uptight little thing anyway, wound way to tight. But hell, the bitch had some how gotten under his skin. He _missed _her? That tight little body, the way she looked up at him with those wide-deep blue eyes. Christ; the was she gasped and bit her lip when she came. No, that wasn't what was troubling to Tig, it was he missed ...her. Her little quirks. She didn't talk constantly; spewing utter bullshit the way other gashes did. So when she did talk, she usually had his full attention. Taking a long swig off his bottle, his calculating eyes landed on a crow eater he'd never seen before.

"Ah, Tiggy.." Chibs took a stool beside his brother, an arm draped around his shoulder. "Ah; hot little thing, isn't she?" Both men eyed the young, doe-eyed little girl. Looking rather lost, the young woman hugged herself, her arms folded protectively over her chest. The legs that poked out of her denim mini-skirt seemingly went on for days, as she tittered on her sky-high platformed heels. No doubt a barely eighteen year-old coming to get some kicks before she moved on.

She rose a small, dainty hand brushing her blunt-edged bangs from her face. Burgundy, she had the same dye-job as Nellie. Nellie? Where did that come from?

* * *

Nikolai sat in the rather large townhouse he rented. Ever the stereotypical 'bachelor-pad' this was_ his space. _ Rarely; had anyone from Vory v Zakone been here, not even Annell. He loved his home. Immaculately clean, from the stark white walls with framed movie posters, to the light crème plush carpet. The truth was; he didn't want any of them invading his space,like a plague. Like some sort of insidious disease, if you let one in before you know it, they multiply like bacteria. No; he kept his life completely separate.

Truth be told, he owed a great debt to Vladimir Propkovic and by some extent Vory v Zakone itself. For a boy who grew up under the repressive thumb of Mother Russia; in poverty, stress and constant political upheaval. America was a haven. A haven of relative freedom, and opportunity. Now, whether that opportunity be used in a legal or illegal way was up to the opportunist.

Uncrossing his legs; Nikolai pushed off the dark brown leather sofa. Laying the book he'd been reading upside down on the arm. He padded through his living room, and the much darker deep crimson walled dining room -he'd never used it. Instead large bookshelves from the black, plush carpeted floor to the white ceiling lined the two, of the four walls. Nikolai Romanov loved books, he loved everything about them. The way the smelled; the way a generously weighted thick one felt in his hands. He supposed it was never being able to have one as a child. Hell, he had not learned to read until his was sixteen years old. An older man in Siberia who seemed nice enough, kindly in his mid-sixties. He had been a political prisoner. At the time of his first stint in Siberia there had been plenty of those... Ah, yes the numerous shortcomings of his mother-land.

It had been a particularly cold winter in November of 1954 when Nikolai had been born. His mother was an average housewife, she accepted that it was not her place to work out in the world, her place was in their home. Then there was his father: Borysko Romanov had taught Nikolai everything he knew about being a man. Borysko was a man's-man; a product of The Great Patriotic War. A hard man with an even harder lifestyle. A metal worker who doted upon his only child- his son. The only thing he loved more than his son was his drink. But those were difficult times; money was scarce and his mother seemed to always be crying. His father always seemed to be screaming.

It was not until he was ten; that he watched in horror as everything declined. That wasn't to say things got worse for Russia; no. They just never got better either. The same year that his mother had tears streaming down her face as Khrushchev was ousted from his office putting up no fight; Borysko had devoped a deep, chest- rattling cough. A cough that never left, in fact had soon after lead to sweats and inexplicable weight-loss. Nikolai had watched helplessly as his once strong, hulk of a father wasted away to nothing. He died quickly.

Soon after he found himself in a Siberian prison, small time crime was the only way he could provide from his ailing mother. It paid well. But the risk was high, as he found himself in the rotting, stinking hell-hole. But this would be his lifeline. His way out of Russia, if only he knew then what he knew now, he might have acted up sooner. Vory v Zakone soon became his life, his family. Vladimir had in many ways saved him, saved him from a life of poverty and stuggling, but then he had_ her._Had a child, that had single-handedly ruined every ambition that he'd had. Her birth, was her first sin against him.

Nikolai watched her in disgust as most of his brothers fawned over the child as if she were some sort of Christ-child. Some great miracle. So the old man had managed to breed, was that worth all the adoration? Absolutely not. He watched as a child grew into a woman, and somehow his disgust for the girl lessened. But also an opportunity arose.

How are you supposed to become a King, when someone else sits on the throne? It was very simple. You naturally remove them from the equation.

Nikolai's black dress shoes slightly stuck to the aged vinyl faux stone floor of the small kitchenette. Flicking a switch on the white wall, the bright florescent light flickered a few times before bursting to life. Throwing open a white cabinet, his tattooed fingers curled around a clear high-ball glass. Splashing a generous amount of clear , expensive vodka from the freezer into the glass. He screwed to the lid back on, taking a savory sip. Special Agent Ramierz was not 'working' as quickly as he'd hoped. It was time. Time to step it up a notch, time to push this family...and_ her_ to the absolute breaking point.

* * *

The dull darkness was cut through by the light purple stage lights. The lights shimmering off the brass pole in the middle of the stage. The tall amazon-like woman twirled around it, using only her upper body with ease. Her fair skin taking on an almost unnatural beauty in the lights. The heavy thick smell of cigarette hung in the air, and could you could not help but have the slightly putride stench of 'bodies' fill your nostrils. Annell drummed her fingertips against the black linen cover table, her glasses slid low on her nose as her steely eyes peered over the frames. The club was packed a few particularly rowdy men in the corner caught Annell's attention. A young tall man, in his early twenties waved a few bills boisterously cat calling at the blonde who danced on the pole. Simon narrowed his crow-footed green eyes, leaning his bulky form across the table.

"I don't like them.." Simon hissed, eyeing the select men with obvious distaste. "They give me a bad feeling." Annell nodded, her long loose hair falling in her face. Brushing the hair from her face with the back of her hand, the phone on the table beside her lit up, dancing across the tablecloth as it vibrated. Pushing her glasses up her nose with her index finger, she peered at the screen. "_Private Caller"_ blinked in big bold letters across the screen.

"Excuse me, I have to take this." Her heart was in her throat. She had a certain hope of who would be calling her at eleven o'clock at night. Scooping up the phone she slinked away from their table. Slipping out the back door, into the dark deserted back parking lot. Annell's stomach felt sick with anticipation, as she tapped accept.

"Hello?" She breathed.

"_ Will you accept a collect call from: Stockton Correctional Facility?"_ a female but distinctly robotic voice asked. Annell's brows knit together, why would anyone...Ivan. Panic welled inside her stomach, a new feeling of sickness taking the anticipations place.

"Yes." She listened to the robotic clicking as the call was transferred, "Hello? Ivan?" Annell said hurriedly. The phone pressed tightly against her ear, she pressed her index finger to her ear, blocking out all outside noise.

"Nellie?" Ivan's thick accent filled her ears. "I don't 'ave much time...We have problem."

"What's go-"

"Don't interrupt me. I don't have time. I know about rat.. You need to look inside our...family. I don't have much time, someone put contract out of me."

"Wait. What?" Annell said dumbly, her heart thundered in her chest. She felt light-headed as she paced the length of the building.

"I don't know if...Just do as I ask, _Da?"_

"Da."

"You look in family, it must be one of us...has to be. Nothing else makes sense to me, Nel?" she listened as he took a deep labored breath. "I don't think I be coming home this time." Annell felt tears prick at her eyes as she took a deep breath, willing her hands to stop trembling.

"Bullshit." She steeled her voice. "I'll figure something out.."

"Nyet, I don't think it work this time. They're waiting for me. Everybody needs money in here; I don't have much time left. You promise me, you take care of my girls." Annell bit back a sob, her free hand rubbing her hand across her forehead. Unable to hold her own body weight, she slid down the cold concrete wall, her knees pressing into her chest. A crumbled mess, sitting on the dirty pavement.

"I will but-"

"No buts, Nel. You take care of my girls. Trust me, I know. You are not here, I am. I know what will happen. I live good life, I have wife, baby. I want for nothing. I will go out like warrior, only wish I had more time." Annell's sobbing became louder, as she panted trying to catch her breath. She opened her suddenly dry, heavy lips but she couldn't think of anything to say, nothing came out.

"This is my fault; I'm sorry." she choked, her head laying heavily against concrete, her eyes fixated on the shimmering stars above. The streaming hot tears searing their way down her cheeks, travelling further down her neck, pooling against her collarbone.

"Nyet. My fault." Ivan hissed. "I'm no victim. Kid, you know I love you, right?" His voice cracked. The merely crack in his voice started a whole new wave od sobs, loud earth-shaking wailing. "I love you, kid always have. Your Daddy would be proud of woman you have become."

"No.."She hiccupped between sobs. "He wouldn't."

"Da! He would." Ivan voice took a harsh turn. "I don't ever want to hear you talk about yous-self like that again. You are best of all of us. You smart, you have a chance - away..." Annell's brows knitted together as static filled the receiver. "You take care - girls - I- you." he cut in and out.

"Ivan! Ivan? I can't hear you!" Annell frantically jumped to her feet, holding her phone out in front of her. Desperately; she tried to find better service, her high-heeled feet dumbly criss-crossed over each other. Stumbling, she crashed to the dirty pavement below; a tangled mess of limbs. Her eyes wide and horrified as her phone skidded a few feet away; the battery even farther from the phone itself. She lost him, lost the phone call.

Ivan was gone and as she lay there, unmoving on the pavement. Her palms pressed hard against the warm pavement, head hanging limply down. There was a contract on Ivan? Her muddied brain tried desperately to digest the information he'd given her. There was a contract on Ivan. There was a contract on Ivan. It seemed to be on repeat, she heard the words over and over in her head. Why Ivan? She cried bitterly. Any ounce of strength she possessed crumbled, as she fell against the ground. Uncaring of who saw or what they thought, she curled into a small ball in the middle of the parking lot, hugging her knees tightly against her body.

Deep throaty sobs filled the empty dark parking lot. She couldn't do anything. He was inside, she had no control of what happened now. Helpless, she was utterly and completely helpless. Worthless, she could not even protect her own men. A loud shrill scream burst from her lips, as she balled her fists. Time seemed to stop. She didn't know how long she lay there; crying, screaming, cursing every deity she could think of.

Slowly, she crawled to her phone. Her hands uncontrollably shaking as she fumbled to pop the battery back inside it's casing. She watched with hazy, clouded eyes as it loaded up. She couldn't be here, she had to leave. She stared dumbly at the screen; her finger searching through her contacts. The tears had dried, leaving a sticky residue on her skin. Her chest still heaved uncontrollably. Without a second thought or hesitation. She dialed the only person she could think of. The only person she wanted.

Ring. Ring. Ring...Voicemail. Trying to compose herself enough to leave a decent message, she failed, she also broke every rule she had. Both personally, and rules between them.

"Alex..." She heaved into the phone. "I need you." She cried helplessly.


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter Nineteen _

* * *

_ "I'm well aware I'm a danger to myself, are you aware I'm a danger to others. There's a crack in my soul. You thought it was a smile. Whatever doesn't kill you – is gonna leave a scar." -Marilyn Manson_

* * *

The room was dark and the bed shook. As Tig pounded in and out of the burgundy-haired girl on all fours. Grunting with each thrust; his eyes shut. The sound of his flesh slapping against hers was so fucking annoying. Her high-pitched moans and sighs. Ah fuck. He picked up his pace, a small-very fucking small part was not even enjoying this. He just wanted to finish. Wrapping his hand in the thick shoulder-length hair; he gave it a hard pull. The girls head snapping back

"Oww!" her high-pitched yelp filled the room. Shit. Grunting what sounded like it could have been 'Sorry'; but probably not, he pounded into the girl furiously. She was tight. So tight. It was glorious; that might have been the only good thing about the lazy fucking peice of of ass that he was balls deep in.

He wa so close. Those brown eyes peering back over her shoulder at him were ruining it though.

"Ugh. " He grunted, pulling out and slamming almost violently back into her. Another high-pitched squeal, he had no idea if she was making those noises in pleasure or pain and frankly; he really didn't give a shit either way.  
"I said don't look at me, doll-face." He managed to pant between thrusts. Keeping his tight, painful hold on her hair. He lightly pushed her face forward with his palm. Slapping his hand hard against the round firm flesh of her ass with a loud _crack._

He could hear his phone on the nightstand. Fuck it, whatever it was it could wait...just a few more minutes.

"Ouch!" The girl screeched, as his hand met her ass again. "What the hell, dude?" Dude? Did the little gash just call him 'dude? She all but leapt away towards the headboard. Her eyes wide and terrifed. Oh come on; a little spanking never hurt anyone! Rubbing his hands tiredly over his face, still hard as a goddamned rock. He tossed the girl cowering in his bed a nasty look, grabbing his phone. He listened, brows knitting together. Why would Annell be calling? She'd made herself perfectly clear the last time he'd seen her. She didn't want him. He was just something to pass the time; something to keep her from the mess that was her own life. She had no real need for him. Did that bother him - he wasn't sure.

He swallowed thickly and his heart clenched. The voice that filled his ears; that was not Annell. At least not the Annell he knew. Her usually husky, confident voice was strained and raspy. "_Alex.." _What in the shit? "_ I need you.."_ and then sobbing. He could hear the loud wails through the phone, the panicked tufts of breath. Fuck her. There was nothing he had to say he had to say to the gash. Whatever mess she'd managed to get herself into...Well, he was done. Well, that was unless it had to do with the Club. Otherwise, he wouldn't be putting himself out for that ungrateful little bitch anymore.

But the crying...that voice. He'd never really known what to do with a crying bitch.  
No, he was done with the never ending bullshit that woman totted around.

"Everything okay?" The girl squeaked, her knees pressed firmly against her chest. Those wide brown eyes staring at him. "We..um, We could go again?" She muttered. Fuck it; it wasn't like he had anything better to do at... He glanced down at the red alarm clock on the nightstand. He had nothing better to do at 2:04 in the morning and he'd rather gouge out his own eyeballs before he spent another moment in this room- with this dull tart.

* * *

Annell hadn't moved, she hadn't even tried to. She wasn't thinking anything. She had no idea what she was doing. she just store blankly ahead, unable to cry; unable to move, seemingly unable to think. Her mind was just..blank. Curled up against the concrete wall, her head rested heavily against the hard, concrete. The dull, soft hum of music from inside the club filled her senses. Every so often the deep rumble of a passing car, all failed to catch her attention. In the span of an hour, an hour that felt like an eternity she'd gone from sheer utter heartbreaking pain, to..nothing. She felt nothing, she felt dead.

Gathering herself up, she brushed off her dirty knees . Dragging her palms and fingers under her eyes in a attempt to wipe away any and all traces of tears. She took a deep breath in and blew out through her lips. Bending down she snatched up her phone; tucking it into the waist band of her skirt. Slowly, her high heels clicked against the pavement, she teetered from side to side a bit. Her feet dumbly refuseing to to co-operate.

The music was loud and pulsing; the lights were playing tricks on her eyes, she could not focus. Zig-zaging through the tables, with the occasional 'excuse me' or 'sorry' as she bumped into her patrions. Only stopping as a sweaty; grimy hand slithered around her wrist.

"Hey baby, how 'bout a dance?" A clearly drunk man in his mid-fifties held up a single dollar bill. Waving it around drunkly. Annell's eyes narrowed as she ripped her wrist from his grasp.

"I don't work here. I own it. " She spat. "Do. not. touch. me." She managed to find a sickenly sweet smile. Turning on a heel, she took a step only to feel a pair of flabby, un-toned arms circle her waist. Her smaller frame being drug into the lap of the foul creature.

"All the more reason, babe." He breath blew her hair as he spoke. The stench of tequila and un-brushed teeth filling her nostrils. "Don't you wanna keep your customers happy?" He said; his disgusting breath filling her nose. On impulse without a second thought; Annell thrust her elbow hard into his gut. Groaning, as she pushed herself off this lap. He clutched his gut, sputtering, his other hand still gripping her wrist.

Annell bent at her waist; her lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "Touch me again and you won't have use of your hand for a week." She hissed, ripping his hand from hers and bending the drunk, limp hand back at an unnatural angle.

"Everything okay here?" A deep voice with a slight accent cut through the music. "Nellie?" Simon laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Peachy." She straightened, dropping the scum-bags hand. "We just had a misunderstanding; everything is straightened out now. Correct?"

"Ye-Yes, ma'am." Struggling to sit straight in his chair, the man sputtered. Cradling his hand in his other; as he lovingly messaged it.

"Great. I'm leaving." She muttered as she slid her body past Simon's, their chests touching. Simon trailed as she made her way back to their table, slinging her purse over her shoulder and grabbing the pack of cigarettes off the table. She paused. As if on second thought; her fingers curled around the tumbler, draining what was left of her vodka and tonic.

"Wait. Are you alright?" Simon yelled over the pulsing music. Annell's heart thundered in her chest. Was she okay? No, no she was not.

"Nope." She bit at her lower lip. "No, I -We are not alright. But there's nothing that can be done about it right now. Get the Sasha, Demetri, Nikolai and of course yourself to my house in the morning. Ass crack of dawn, you got it?" She ran her fingers through her hair at the crown of her head.

"Ass crack?"

"Yeah. Like six in the morning..."

"Da. Annell.." He called as she walked away.

"What?" She spun on her heel, continuing to walk backwards.

"Are _you_ okay.." He thought better of that question. "To drive, I mean?" A small smirk found its' way to her thinned lips, she stumbled a bit backwards not out of intoxication –out of sheer clumsiness. Spinning her key ring around an index finger she sighed.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

* * *

Annell sat in the drivers seat, she didn't know how long. It could've been minutes, or hours. She watched in some strange foggy numb haze. She watched as patrions filtered out of the club to their respective vehicles. A few of the younger rowdier bunches drunkenly hung onto eachother. A particular twenty-something fist-pumped as he drunkenly proclaimed how 'epic' their night had been. Annell never made a conscious decision to sit in the stupid, damned car. She couldn't seem to move. It was strange –like she was on some sort of auto-pilot.

The lights were on but it felt like no one was home. The keys were in the ignition, her right hand gripped the steering wheel in a vice like grip. Her nails digging into the leather. The car windows were up as she held a ciagrette in her left hand. The cloudy and pungent smoke filling the car. The gray curling its' way through the air; she figured this way she might die sooner. Hell—she should smoke two at the same time.

She hadn't heard the roar of an engine; nor had she noticed the neon lights flicker off leaving her sitting in the pitch-black parking lot. Placing the cigarette between her lips she took a long pull off of the slightly damp spongy filter. She store out her window at the barren club, only blinking every so offten.

Knuckles rapped loudly on the passenger side window. She nearly jumped out of her skin. Her eyes slowly sliding to see the dark wild haired shadow peering in the window.

"Open up." The familiar voice commanded. Annell sighed, the tightness in her throat returning. A single finger tapped against a button on the door, the locks popping up. She watched him, resisting the urge to through herself at him, bury her face in his neck and cry her eyes out. Tig – Well, somehow she didn't think he would be appreciative of that. Blinking furiously, she watched as he ripped the passanger side door open, sliding in. He slammed the door.

"What the hell could you possibly want?" He barked. As he slammed the door shut. His icy blue gaze boreing into her flesh. Annell recoiled. She sputtered, trying to form words. As Tig scowled at her. A large hand waving back and forth infront of his face. A mixture of her perfume and the heavy cloud of cigarette assaulting his nostrils. For him, as a smoker, to be bothered by the caustic cloud – that was saying something.  
" Smells like a french whorehouse in here..." He muttered. "Well...spit it out, woman." He quirked an eyebrow.

"I- I- I'm just.." The tightness in her throat was returning with a vengeance, she blinked rapidly trying to fight back tears. Everything was crumbling around her. Everything. Tig was undoubtly pissed. She couldn't handle that. She tried to not cry. But the thought of on top of everything Tig being upset with her...That hurt. She flexed her fingers, opening and closing them around the steering wheel. Her palms were sweaty and her mouth painfully dry. Her breath hitched and before the words that were on the tip of her tongue were able to escape. She sobbed. Deep heady sobs, the kind that seemed to wrack her whole body.

Tig's gaze softened, he opened his mouth but then shut it as Annell slumped forward, her head falling against the steering wheel. Hesitantly he reached out, fingers spread wide towards the crying woman. His hand fell heavily on her shoulder. He was a prick – He certainly felt like one.

" I'm.. I'm so sorry. " She croaked between sobs. "I never meant...I never meant to be such a bitch." Her wails took over again.

"It's okay, doll." Tig twisted in his seat, his long legs struggling to adjust in such a tiny cage. His hand rubbed slow circles on the satin material of her blouse. Shocked, he stilled as Annell lifted her tear streaked face and slammed up the center console. She crawled into his lap; her face burying itself in his neck. He sighed. His arms circling the large, curled up heap of woman. She felt so right. She always had.

"I don't know what to do..." She sobbed. The wetness of her tears flowed down his neck, as he soothed her. Pressing a kiss onto the crown of her head, his large ringed fingers rubbing her back. "Please. Just tell me what to do. " She cried. "Please, don't leave me. Everyone always leaves me.."


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter Twenty_

* * *

_"And the tears come streaming down your face. When you lose something you can't replace...Could it be worse? Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you." -Coldplay _

* * *

They sat that way for what seemed like hours. Annell's sobs had long stilled. Her head laid heavily on Tig's shoulder. Her hands fisting his cut, neither spoke. It didn't feel to either like there was anything that needed to be said. There was nothing left to say. Tig listened quietly as the woman in his lap spilled every ounce of feeling onto him. Ivan. Fuck, she wanted him to tell her what to do. What could be done? Nothing. No one could get inside to help the brother out. Protection could only go so far. A contract. Well, that just made everything a whole lot messier.

Neither one of them made any attempt to move and if Tig was honest with himself, he liked this. Despite the tears and the hopelessness, he liked having her pressed against him. She needed him and it felt glorious. No one had needed him in a very longtime. When this situation arose who did she call? Not Simon, not any of her own family, not even Jax... She called him. Whether she would admit it or not, that spoke volumes. Pulling away, Tig pressed his lips to her forehead, his hands pressed against her damp cheeks.

"You're gonna be okay. No matter what happens, everything is going to be okay." He looked deeply into her eyes, searching for some kind of understanding. She nodded tearfully even if she didn't believe it. He somehow made her believe it. Wrapping her tightly in his arms again, her crushed her to his chest, resting his chin on top her head. He pressed another kiss to her hair. "I'm gonna make sure of it. You don't worry, doll. " He muttered softly into her hair.

* * *

They drove in absolute silence. Tig behind the wheel. She couldn't drive; he knew that. She could barely stop shaking. Letting her drive was a sure fire way to wind up wrapped around a telephone pole. He hated her cage. It was small and confining. She hadn't said a word. Her temple pressed against the window, her gaze blank, barely even blinking. Pulling into the driveway gravel crunched beneath the tires. The house pitch black and desolate. Cutting the engine, Tig looked sideways at his companion, a tightness filling his chest.

Turning her head she offered a tight lipped smile. Opening her door, she climbed out. The pair wordlessly walked up the dark path to the front door. Annell sighed, grasping her key, her hand trembled as she attempted to slide it into the lock. Unsuccessfully.

"Son of a bitch.." She breathed, her fingers shaking as she made another attempt, the key uncooperative. Tig's large hand wrapped around hers as he pried the key from her fingers.

"I got it, baby." His said softly. Moving around her, he shoved the key in its keyhole and threw the door open, laying a hand on the small of her back. He guided her in the dark house. High heels clicking against the hardwood, he followed her down the dark hall way into the kitchen. A dull yellow glow from the light under the range hood barely lighting the room. Annell sighed, laying her purse on the center island. Her hands bracing her weight as she leaned heavily on it.

"What is wrong with me?" She spoke softly. Her voice hoarse but barely above a whisper. Tig's boots thudded heavily against the tile as he walked behind her.

"What are you talking about?" He said, with a slight shake of his head. His heavy ringed fingers running through his hair. God, he was fucking tired. Annell looked back at him, over her shoulder, her eyes seeming dull.

"There's something wrong with me. I'm sick. I don't feel anything." Tears rolled down her cheeks again, as her pushed off the far counter. Her shoulders shook as her head hung heavily. "Why don't I feel anything? That's not right...I- I, there is something wrong with me." She muttered shaking her head. Her hand shakily wiping at her cheeks. Tig smirked a little, his hand catching her wrist. His eyes were soft, as he looked down at her. She was hurting. He wanted to make it stop. He felt helpless, he would take her pain as his own if he could. He just wanted her to smile.

"There's nothing wrong with you, doll." He said huskily, her calloused thumb wiping a few stray tears from her cheek. "You're crying, that means you feel something." He leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her. She laid her head against the cool leather of his cut.

"Tig" Annell whispered, breaking the silence, but the moment she closed her mouth, he covered it with his. He placed both hands on either side of her body, pressing her roughly against the kitchen island. His tall, imposing form hovering over her. His body, his fingers clasping at her with raw desire. It surprised her at first, but she answered to his passion hastily. Wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging his body to her.

He was aggressive, unrestrained, his kisses hurt. He pushed his tongue in her mouth, almost shoving it down. She wanted to ask him to soften up slightly, but she could not; she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

He was desperate for her. To get as close to Annell as possible. He wanted to save her, if only for a little. It was burning inside him, he wanted her hopelessly. He always wanted her… The hard woman, mean and ruthless. He could never get enough of her. She was soft with him, obedient. She needed him, that feeling was intoxicating. She needed him to love her. Instead of roaming her body ferociously, his hands relaxed and caressed her back softly. His kisses settled to an obliged softness, his tongue massaged hers gently, but still burning with the same passion. He eventually broke the kiss to look down at her. She looked back at him, biting her bottom lip. The pink flesh swollen and bruised.

"Tig.." She whispered, cupping his cheek. Her fingers ghosting over the dark stubble of his facial hair.

He took hold of her wrist. His lips brushed the palm of her hand, gently tickling it with soft kisses while never breaking his stare on her. His gaze was so intense; she closed her eyes almost intimidated. She was breathing so heavily, her heartbeat so frantic it was drumming in her ears. She heard him shift slightly then his lips were on her neck, nibbling at the skin aching for his affection, leaving a warm trail of kisses on it. She gasped at the sensation and ran her fingers through his dark wild curls.

Her hands pushed his cut off his shoulders, down his arms, it fell to the floor. His eyes store into hers; his large ringed fingers roughly tugged the pink satin blouse from her skirt. His calloused hands sliding under her shirt and ghosting over the blazing flesh of her back, the cool metal of his rings a contrast to the heated flesh. She moaned at the delightful sensation of his touch. His hands firmly gripped her ass and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around him and pressed her lips against his. He blindly directed them to her bedroom. Doors slammed, pictures fell from their places on the stairway, tumbling down the stairs.

Tig roughly took her mouth, his goatee rubbing the flesh of her chin raw. Tig slammed his hand hard against the drywall, flipping the light switch as he carried her to the bed. Much to Annell's shock he laid her down gently, as if she were some treasure. Something precious. At least to him.

He broke the kiss and his lips found the hollow of her neck again. While his hands discovered every nook and cranny of her body as if for the first time. It was the first time, the first time he actually calculated their passions. The first time he wanted to make her feel something. He listened carefully to every gasp, moan and yelp she produced, those sounds he could never get enough of.

Once she was done unbuttoning his shirt, she pushed it to the floor. Her hands roamed over his bare chest, enjoying the feeling of his chest hair between her fingers. Impatiently, he unzipped her skirt quickly and shoved it down roughly while his tongue was tasting her.

He ripped open her blouse, as she pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her mouth seemly glued to his, as she shrugged out of the ruined blouse. She fell back across her bed, in only black lacy undergarments, he broke the kiss. Taking a step back from the bed, he looked down at the vision before him. With new eyes, it was almost like looking at Annell for the first time. Finally getting the whole picture, she bore her vulnerability to him. He stared at her intensely, then the corner of his mouth formed a half-smile. She took it as an approval, as if he enjoyed the picture in front of his eyes. She could not help it, she blushed.

In an almost predatory fashion he crawled over her smaller frame, his hand firmly planted on either side of her head. Lightly, he brushed his lips over her neck. God, he loved the taste of her skin, the sweet saltiness and the smell . Her smell could drive him insane.

His head moved excruciatingly slowly down, kissing every stretch of skin falling under his lips. Her chest was rising up and down in excitement. As if to convince him to move quicker, Annell's fingers fumbled with his belt frantically, her movements chuckled, his hand curling around the outside of Annell's thigh, he hoisted her leg up. Bent, he slithered up her body, his calloused hands lightly sliding over her skin, making her flesh come to life.

His lips hovering over her breasts. Two small hardened peaks poked through the lace. He nuzzled and nibbled at one through the fabric while his other hand was occupied unfastening her bra. Annell gasped; her eyes squeezing shut, moaning softly, her lips fully parted. Her hands fumbled with the pants.

In an lust-filled haze, panties slid down Annell's legs. Tig took his time, something that _ they_ as a pair had never really done before. Sex with Tig and Annell had always been fast and rough. Taking from each other, not so much a give and take..Just take. Annell knew she was just as guilty as he was. Struggling to sit up, Tig stared down at her, as her fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers.

She was undeniably the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Staring up at him with those half-lidded bright blue eyes, her lips swollen and assaulted, hair tussled and messy. Her nails scrapped his flesh lightly as as she pulled the offending underwear down. Tig's hand reached down, lightly cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing her swollen lips. Heavily, he laid both ringed hands on her shoulders, lightly, almost gently pushing her down against the mattress.

His hands cupped her breasts, brushing the pink buds with his thumbs. She moaned loudly, her hand curling around his hardened cock, stroking it slowly. He grunted savagely, his breath tickling the bottom of her throat as she pulled him into another passionate kiss. He removed her hand from his shaft, lacing his beefy fingers with her thin, narrow ones.

Carefully, he entered her, inch by inch. She gasped loudly, more out of discomfort than actual pleasure, and her eyes shut down tightly. Tig never lied when he said he was a big man. After a moment, he saw her face relax, her eyes open and she gave him a pure look of satisfaction, as she always did. He accelerated the pace, thrusting himself a little more deeply each time.

Bracing himself, his fingers splayed against the mattress beside her head, his other hand on the other side of her head, their fingers still tightly laced together. She grabbed onto him firmly with her free hand, wanting to bring him even closer. She ground her hips against his, meeting his every thrust.

The only sounds in the room were moans, pants, voices calling each others name. She followed his movements appreciatively, gladly taking anything he had to offer: his hand fondling one of her breasts, his mouth nibbling at the soft skin of her neck, his lips kissing the tender flesh of her earlobe, his tongue massaging hers roughly, his eyes searing into her. Every so often his fingers would tangle in her hair, he would press his cheek to her sweaty one, he would break the kiss to look into her eyes intensely, he would lean his forehead against hers, making the moment more intimate.

Tig wrapped an arm around Annell's waist as she arched. Crushing her, he pulled her against his chest, her arms looping around Tig's neck. Rolling back on his heels, he pulled Annell onto his lap. Their flesh sticky; Annell rode him. Tig's hand pushed her slightly damp hair from her eyes. Long and loose – He loved her hair like that.

"Ugh, baby." He groaned, gripping her hip with one hand. He tangled the long silky locks around his fingers, giving the hair at the nape of her neck a good hard pull. Annell gasped, her head rearing back. Those glorious tits bouncing in his face. Tig moaned as she ground herself into him. Burying his face in her neck, his tongue flicking over her salty, damp flesh.  
"Ah, damn baby. " Tig grunted lifting his hips to met her hers. Annell's toes curled, her head tossed back as she bore the lengthy column of her neck. Taking the opportunity; Tig sunk his teeth into the tender flesh – hard. She moaned as the metallic taste of her blood coated Tig's mouth.

She was feeling tension in her stomach. She feared letting the words escape her mouth. That she cared for him, she needed him. She dreaded giving him the satisfaction of knowing he now possessed her entirely, body and mind, but she had to say it, she _had_ to, before it consumed her entirely.

"I love you," She finally pushed the words out in between pants.

He did not answer. He simply looked at her softly, then pulled her mouth to his, his tongue seeking hers passionately. She had never expected him to answer her words; she could not possibly be so naïve. She was not hurt or disappointed. He eventually broke the kiss and settled her head on his shoulder, feeling her peak coming quickly. The orgasm came strongly, tearing through her entire body, causing her to shudder in his arms. She screamed his name.

He listened to her gasp his name several times, felt her warm gasps on his neck, felt her nails scratching his back hopelessly, felt her walls closing tightly around him. It was the final nail in the coffin and he released himself inside of her. Grunting her name softly, pressing her securely against him, his eyes tightly shut. The orgasm was agonizing, releasing, filling and dangerously satisfying.

When it was over, one of his arms held her tightly against him. The other hand caressed her cheek. Their lips touched, only brushing one another.


End file.
